


Living for Today

by mosylu



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Canon Divergent, Cisco is Keeping a Terrible Secret, F/M, Platonic Best Buds Who Are Makin' a Baby Together, like you do, mine is an evil laugh, some chapters are explicit, you know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2019-07-13 21:12:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 66,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16026071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mosylu/pseuds/mosylu
Summary: Suddenly faced with a medical deadline, Caitlin decides that it's now or never to have a baby the old-fashioned way. She knows exactly who she wants as her baby's father, too - Cisco Ramon. The trick is going to be convincing him.And Cisco? Well. He has his own reasons for saying yes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, it's true. The Traveler isn't done yet. Mea culpa. 
> 
> But I've been working on this, off and on, for literal months. At one time I wanted to post it throughout the summer hiatus. Hahahaha, that happened. Then my goal was to start posting before the season premiere, because it's going to diverge a LOT. I have had a few chapters ready to go for awhile, so I decided to put this up today. There will be sexin' in this story, because apparently that is one way to make a baby. But anything more explicit than heavy make-outs or fade-to-black, I'll put in its own chapter so you can decide to skip it or not.

"It's a bird! It's a plane! Iiiiiiit's . . . SuperBaby!"

Jenna shrieked joyously as Cisco hefted her into the air over his head. She waved her arms and kicked her legs as he made zooming noises.

Joe looked on with the jaundiced eye of a man who'd raised one baby already. "She pukes on you, that's your fault," he said.

Cisco gave an exaggerated gasp. "She's not gonna puke on me!" But he brought her down again, propping her on his hip. "Are you? You wouldn't puke on your favorite Uncle Cisco, would you? Nuh-uh. Besitos!" he said, planting loud smooches on her fluffy curls. "Muchos besitos!" She squirmed and squealed again.

Caitlin smiled at them. "How are you doing?" she asked Cecile.

Cecile smiled too. "You know, I had Joanie when I was twenty-two," she said. "And I thought I was gonna die. In some ways, it's a lot easier this time around."

"Because you know what to expect?"

"That, and both Joe and I got parental leave, and we're not as worried about money as I was back then. We get to enjoy her a lot more than Ivan and I got to enjoy Joanie." She sighed and rubbed her eyes. "And then there are the times when I think I was out of my mind, having another baby at forty-five."

Joe added dryly, "Mostly those times are around three in the morning when Miss J won't stop screaming."

Iris made a face and Caitlin winced. Cecile laughed at them. "But it's good. Honestly."

"Hey, I meant to ask, did the city finally give in?" Cecile had gone back to work a few weeks before and had been doing battle with her office, trying to get a private, dedicated space to pump breast milk for Jenna.

"Yes! Amazing what an offhand mention of various lawsuits will do." Cecile smirked. "Got a room with a lock on it. I can pump in peace and get the hell back to work, and so can any other mothers in the office."

"I can't still believe the nerve of your bosses," Iris said. "Saying you should pump the milk for your _baby_ in the _bathroom_."

"Girl, believe it. You'd think a DA's office would know better, but - " She spread her hands.

Caitlin asked, "Are you still having issues with blocked ducts?"

"No, that cleared right up with the cabbage leaves."

"Blocked - cabbage - what?" Barry said. "Do I want to know?"

Joe put his hand on Barry's shoulder. "No. Believe me. No. You'll find out soon enough."

Barry recoiled, and they all laughed. Barry's skittishness about the topic of pregnancy and babies had quickly become a Star Labs joke of choice.

Of course, meeting your full-grown daughter from the future - and figuring out how to fix her giant mistake - could mess with anybody's mind. Caitlin thought it might be a miracle if Iris and Barry had kids before Jenna was old enough to baby-sit them.

Iris laughed too, but she said, "Dad, stop. Not that soon."

Barry scowled playfully at all of them and kissed Iris's forehead. "Thanks. Nice to know someone has my back."

Caitlin looked across the cortex again, to where Cisco was prying his hair out of Jenna's questing fingers. He caught her eye and came over. "I see you eying this little dumpling," he said. "You want some baby time?"

"Iris?" Caitlin asked. "She's your sister."

"I'm good, I held her already," Iris said. "Go on."

Cisco shifted Jenna into Caitlin's arms. She braced the tiny feet on her own knees and steadied Jenna with one hand under her arm and the other against her diapered hip. "Hi," she crooned to the round little face. "Hello, darling girl. Did you have fun with Uncle Cisco?"

Jenna gave her a big, drooly, gummy smile and bounced a few times.

"Showing off?" Caitlin glanced at Cecile. "She's right on track with her core strength. She's holding herself up really well. All I'm doing is steadying her."

"That's what the pediatrician says. And she's a magpie. She'll grab for anything that catches - oh, there she goes."

Caitlin grunted as Jenna nabbed her pendant and tried to stuff it into her mouth. She tugged it out of baby fingers, wincing as the baby tugged and the chain ground against the back of her neck. "No, honey, that's not good to eat." She got it free. "Cisco, can you - "

"Yep," he said, and reached for the baby.

“No, the necklace.”

“Oh, okay.” He changed course and pulled the necklace off over her head. "Sorry," he added as it caught in her hair and she winced.

"It's all right. Better than Jenna chewing it."

"Wouldn't be the worst thing a baby of mine has put in her mouth," Joe said.

Iris, who had heard enough baby-Iris stories in the past four months to last her a lifetime, turned quickly to Caitlin. "So, hey, how is your mom doing?"

"Really good," Caitlin said, bouncing a squawking Jenna to distract her from the loss of her toy. "I talked with her last night and she said the last scan showed no signs of cancer cells."

Cecile held up a hand. "Whoa, what? Did I miss something?"

"My mother was diagnosed with ovarian cancer in July," Caitlin explained, pressing a kiss to Jenna’s forehead and breathing in her sweet baby smell. "I took some time off last month to stay with her while she had surgery to remove them."

Jenna was still squeaking, a grumpy edge to it now. Cecile said, “She’s about to do that naptime fuss. I’ll take her.”

Reluctantly, Caitlin passed her the baby. Cecile eased Jenna against her chest and started gently twisting the chair from side to side. “But they got it all?" she asked Caitlin.

"Mmm. The surgery got most of it and the chemo seems to be taking care of the rest."

"Good," Cecile said. Her daughter had dropped her head onto her shoulder, blinking long, slow blinks. Her hands were fisted in Cecile’s shirt. "I can't imagine losing my mom at my age, much less yours."

"We haven't always gotten along, but I don't think I'm ready to lose her, either."

“Nobody’s ever ready to lose a parent,” Iris said, glancing at Barry. He gave her a little smile back, tinged with sadness.

Cecile eyed Caitlin beadily. “I realize who I'm talking to, but you know I have to ask: Have you gotten checked out lately?”

Caitlin watched Jenna fall asleep. "Don't worry, Cecile, I'm on it."

She was glad Cecile couldn't read minds anymore. That might lead to a big group discussion that she wasn't ready to have yet - at least, not until she talked to Cisco.

* * *

Cisco pulled open a small breach, tossed his goggles through, and immediately pulled open another one at the end of the table. The goggles flew out and clattered across the surface. He checked his computer, huffed, and picked the goggles up to throw them again.

The door creaked and Caitlin said, “Cisco? What are you doing?”

“Hey,” he said, catching the goggles as they flew out the second breach again. “Testing something.”

“Your breaching?”

“No,” he said, checking his computer again. “That’s fine. I’m testing my goggles.”

“For what?”

“So, you know how our comms hiccup when we go through a breach?”

“Yes,” she said, sitting off to one side. “Your bio-stats can go flat for up to ten seconds. I hate it.”

“Not a fan myself,” he said, swiveling his chair to face her. “So I’m trying to figure out what’s causing it.”

She tilted her head. “I always thought it was due to going through nil-space in between the in-breach and the out-breach. I mean, it’s technically nowhere, so the receiver can’t find the comms.”

He pointed at her. “You’d think so, right? And that’s why I’ve let it go on this long. But the reconnection takes longer than it should. I’m theorizing that it’s the ambient radiation of the breaches themselves, interfering.”

She pursed her lips. “Interesting. Any ideas about how to shield for that?”

“Working on it.” He glanced at the time. “You out of here?”

“Not exactly,” she said. “Actually, I was wondering if we could go to Jitters together.”

“Us?”

She nodded. “I have something I want to talk to you about."

"Are you buying?" he teased.

Normally, she would start bickering with him that she'd bought the last time, and he'd gotten a scone and a sandwich besides his coffee (true; in his defense he'd just come off a fight so he'd been starving), so really it was his turn. But she simply said, "I can."

He realized that she had her hands woven together, flexing and twisting her fingers like she only did when she was nervous. Nervous? About talking to _him?_

"Okay," he said after a moment. "Let me run one more trial and shut everything down?”

She nodded and hooked her heels on the stool's foot bar, waiting. He threw the goggles one last time, caught them as they came through, and glanced at his computer. Yeah, seven-point-five seconds. That was a long time in the heat of battle. He frowned at the screen, then saved the file and put the computer to sleep. He checked his various machines, put the goggles away on the mannequin with his Vibe suit, and hit the lights.

“Ready?” she asked, getting to her feet.

“Yep.” He opened up a breach and she hopped through, landing in a secluded alley about five minutes from Jitters, which Cisco used as a landing point every time he needed to get downtown in a hurry. Or just felt lazy. Which was often.

They walked the rest of the way, Cisco filling up the space between them with chatter about nothing.

She was very quiet. She'd been pretty quiet for the past month, ever since getting back from her stay with her mom. Yeesh. Caitlin still had a rocky relationship with her mom, but you talk about scares right there. But Dr. T was doing okay. Wasn’t that what she’d said earlier today?

Was _Caitlin_ doing okay?

She got in line to order the drinks and he claimed a table. When she came back, he waited for her to speak. But she just played with her bracelet, twisting her fingers in it until the tips turned purple, and then letting go.

Their names got called and she jumped up to grab their drinks. When she came back, he took his macchiato from her and set it down, waiting until she'd settled down with her latte.

"So," he said, and she looked up. He looked her in the eyes. "Spill. What's going on?"

She took a breath and let it out. "You know today, when we were talking about my mom, and Cecile said I should get checked out?”

“Hey,” he said. “You know she doesn’t really think you’re going to neglect your health, right? She’s just momming you. She’s got all sorts of extra mom energy right now. It’s slopping over onto everyone.”

“No, I know,” she said. “And I actually kind of like it when she moms me. I didn't say it today, but I already got checked out. Before I left to stay with my mother, in fact. And my doctor called me back a couple of days after I got back.”

His stomach went rigid. He dropped his spoon with a clink. "Jesus, Caitlin, do you have  - "

"No! I'm fine. She did a full exam, and found no evidence of cancer. But given my family history - I never told you, but my grandmother had ovarian cancer, and we think my great-grandmother died of it, although according to my mother, nobody would ever say definitively what she had. I mean, she died in 1945, so, you know, people didn't really talk about cancer, and cancers of the reproductive system were particularly - "

He put his hand over hers. "Hey. Focus. What did your doctor say?"

She breathed. "Anyway," she said. "Anyway, I discussed this family history with her, and she recommends that I get my ovaries removed before I turn thirty-five."

"Whoa."

"Yes. Maybe also my fallopian tubes.”

"That's a pretty big step for just-in-case, isn't it?"

"My family history triples my chances of developing ovarian cancer at some point in my lifetime."

And she'd been exposed to the particle accelerator explosion, and they were still finding all the little bombs that had left behind. What if one of them was a heightened risk of cancer? Especially cancers you were already genetically predisposed to. It made his mama's harping to get a screening for lung cancer a little more reasonable. “But, wait,” he said as something occurred to him. “I know you haven’t been able to access Frost since DeVoe, but if you did, wouldn't your accelerated healing factor just, like, take care of it?” Might lend some urgency to their ongoing Frost-retrieval project.

But she shook her head. “The thing about cancer is that it's not an invading pathogen. It's the body's own cells, not working the way they should. So Frost’s hyper metabolism might kill them, but it could just as easily - ”

“Go to their side,” he finished, picturing a hyper-metabolized tumor, growing at the same pace that Caitlin healed up when she let her frost powers out. “Oh, that could be ugly.”

“It really could. You can see it's not a theory I'm eager to try out on myself.”

He cringed at the thought. "So you gonna do it, then? Get those bad ovaries taken out?"

She nodded firmly. "One thing I've learned is that it's best to do something about the bomb before it explodes."

"Good plan," he said, taking a sip of his coffee.

“I’ve got a couple of years, though. I’ve got time.” She fiddled with her spoon. “S-so. I want to have a baby.”

It was a good thing he'd swallowed, because otherwise he might have done the classic spit-take and gotten coffee all over her silky blouse. “You?”

“Why are you shocked by that?”

“I never thought of you as a kid person.” But he thought of her cuddling Jenna today and wondered if he’d just never noticed.

“I know I'm not exactly the motherly type, but I always wanted kids. Just not before I did everything else I wanted to do. I’ve seen too many women have to choose between their pursuit of science and having children. My early thirties was always the plan. I thought I’d be established enough in my career by then to start a family.” Her face saddened. “But you know. Life happened.”

“Yeah. It has a way of doing that.” They were quiet together before he stirred. “So. What’s the plan? I know you have one. You gonna go to the sperm bank or something?

“I really think I’d rather have a known donor. Which. Um." She started twisting her fingers again. "Is what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Wait. What?”

"Cisco," she said. "Will you be my sperm donor?"

"Me?"

She nodded.

"You want a baby, and you want me to help."

"Basically," she said. "Yes.”

“Why me?”

“You’re smart,” she said. “You’re good-looking. And you’re kind and funny and - well, you’re the best man I know. I’d be beyond lucky to have a baby as wonderful as you are.”

He felt himself flush, and looked down into his coffee. "That's a big ask, Caitlin. That's. Shit. That's a gargantuan ask."

"I know. I've been thinking it over for a month. I do understand if you don't want to do it.”

“Look, I’m not saying no,” he said. “I just - I don’t know. Can you give me some time to think about it?”

“Oh! Yes. Of course. All the time you need.”

“Not all the time,” he said. “I mean, you’ve got a ticking clock. That’s the whole point.”

“It’s not ticking that loud yet,” she said. “Just let me know. Whenever.”

“Okay,” he said. “Yeah. I will.”

They sat in awkward silence for a few moments. Cisco drank his coffee, the words _I want to have a baby_ thudding in his brain.

He looked up and Caitlin gave her tightest, most dredged-up smile.  "So,” she said, voice bright almost to the point of shrill. “Let’s talk about something else.”

“Yes,” he said. “Please.”

“You had a date last night, right? How did that go?”

Wow. She'd just gotten done asking to borrow a cup of jizz, and she wanted to hear about his love life?

Actually, he did kind of want to tell her. “Not great.”

“Uh-oh, what happened?”

“Okay,” he said. “Okay, so you’ve read my profile, right? I think I’m very clear. Crazy job, just out of a relationship, not really up for serious, right? Just want to have some fun, go on some dates, have some sex. ”

“Very clear,” Caitlin said. She’d edited it.

“So I’m at the coffee shop, talking with Brian, and I shit you not, he busts out with, ‘well, I intend to get married before I’m thirty.’”

She frowned. “Well, that’s not - how old is he?”

“Twenty-eight,” Cisco said grimly.

“Oh,” Caitlin said, eyes going wide.

“So, yeah, I took my coffee to go.”

She scrunched her face. “I’m sorry.”

He sighed. “You know, I was ready to go the distance with Cynthia. I was all in. Maybe I should be open to something more serious.”

“But that was with her,” she said gently. “And you’re still healing from that breakup. A casual relationship for fun and companionship and, yes, sex is a perfectly reasonable thing to want right now.”

He smiled at her. “I’m actually thinking about dropping by 19 this week.”

He almost bit his tongue. He hadn’t meant to let that slip. But he hadn’t told anyone yet, and he’d been talking to Caitlin a lot about his complicated breakup feelings.  
  
She put her mug down on the saucer, very slowly. “To see Cynthia?”

He nodded. “You think that’s a good idea?”

“Depends on what it’s for. Are you - I mean. Do you want to try again with her?”

He thought that over. “No,” he said slowly. “No. I don’t. I mean, the reasons we broke up haven’t gone away. But I miss talking to her. You know? One of the nice things about being with her was, I got a perspective on my own powers. I didn’t feel so alone.”

"I know," she said. "You really liked that."

“I really did.” He slurped coffee. “And, anyway, I have a question for her.”

Caitlin looked up, eyes wide.

“No!” he said. “Not your thing. I promise. This -” He waved between them. “Stays between us.”

“It doesn’t have to,” Caitlin said, but her eyes were still wide. “I mean, I’ve been talking to Iris about it. It’s a big decision. You should be able to talk to someone you trust.”

“Thanks,” he said. “But it might be a little weird to talk to my ex-girlfriend about the possibility of being your sperm donor. So, I’ll skip that. My question for her is multiverse related. Pretty much a breachers-only question.”

“Okay,” she said. “Well, I think you should go, then. Maybe it’ll help to see her. To work out how you really feel.”

“Maybe it will. Maybe I can finally have that rebound.”

“Well, you know one thing,” she said. “It’s very unlikely that your rebound will be a homicidal megalomaniac from another dimension.”

He held out his fist for her bump. “Long, loud word on that.”

* * *

Cisco offered to breach her home, but she waved it off. “It’s a nice evening,” she said. “And it's barely a block. I’d like to walk.”

“Okay,” he said cheerfully. “See you tomorrow?”

“Mhm,” she said, and started off down the street. When she turned the corner, she pulled out her phone and texted Iris.

_I asked him_

The answer came almost right away. **Well????**

_He asked for some time to think it over_

**Which makes sense**

_Right. It’s a big decision. It’s totally fair to ask for some time_

**Are you freaking out?**

_No._

Her phone rang, and when she answered it, Iris said in her ear, “Are you freaking out?”

“A little,” she admitted. “What if he says no?”

Iris's voice was calm and matter-of-fact in her ear. “Then you find somebody else.”

“I don’t want anybody else,” she said.

She could almost see Iris raising her brows at the other end of the phone line.

“I mean,” she said. “I really have my heart set on having a known donor, and it’s not like my social circle is all that large.”

“I get that, but you know, it's not like the sperm bank would hand you a random cup and point you at the door. They've got more menu options than a Starbucks. You can order yourself exactly the kind of DNA you want.”

“It would feel so weird having a stranger’s baby,” she said.

“It wouldn’t be a stranger’s baby,” Iris said. “It would be yours.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true.” She glanced up at the crosswalk light before her building. “But still.”

“I know, I know. You’re probably only going to get the one. You should be able to do as close to ideal as you can.”

Which meant Cisco. “What if he’s weirded out?” She let herself in the side entrance and paused at her mailbox. Nothing but a catalog. She dropped it in the trash.

“Have you looked at our lives lately? Asking for a sperm donation isn’t exactly a clear winner in the weirdness sweepstakes. Wait - “ Her voice sounded further away, as if she’d moved the phone away from her mouth. “Babe, 4th and Main. Okay, I’m back.”

She was running the comms for Barry while he patrolled. “Is it busy out there?” Caitlin asked, getting on the elevator.

“Please, it’s a Tuesday night. I’m keeping an eye on the scanner, taking notes for a story, talking to you, and watching _Scandal_ on Cisco’s monitor.”

Caitlin pictured Cisco’s face if he found that out and giggled. “Which season?”

“One. Starting all over again.”

She opened her own front door and locked it behind her, kicking her shoes off and setting her purse and keys on the shelf just inside her foyer. “Well, I’m about to start dinner, so unless you like the sound of me eating in your ear, I’ll let you go.”

“Gross. Thanks. Have a good night.”

“You too.”

“Hey, Caitlin.”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t freak out, okay? Things will work out one way or another. Even if he doesn’t want to be your known donor, Cisco will still be Uncle Cisco and he’ll be amazing.”

“He will, won’t he?”

“He will. See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow,” Caitlin echoed, and ended the call.

She rummaged in her freezer, pulling out a frozen meal that she stuck in the microwave. Every time she got a full day off, she promised herself she was going to cook a set of healthy meals to last until her next day off. She really needed to start eating better, in preparation for getting pregnant. But so far, it hadn't happened.

She left the microwave humming away to itself and went to her bedroom to change. On the way back, she paused in the door of her second bedroom. It was the smaller one and currently held a sofa that folded out into a bed, some neatly organized bookshelves, and her desk with its somewhat dusty computer. Home office/guest room was the use she’d intended for it when she’d moved in. But that had been then, and this was now.

Her therapist had told her to envision her desired outcome, which sounded a little _The Secret_ to Caitlin. But then, she'd just asked a man who could jump between dimensions to be her sperm donor, so what did she know.

She shut her eyes and pictured the room, repainted. Mint green, maybe, or yellow. Sheer curtains at the window, to soften the afternoon light. A crib in the corner, a changing table. A rocking chair, a bookshelf.

And a baby, snuggled trustingly against her chest, staring up at her with big dark eyes from under a cap of black curls.

She could almost feel the soft weight in her arms.

The microwave dinged and her eyes flew open. There was no nursery, no curtains, no soft-colored walls. No baby. Just her desk and the sofa and the bookshelves.

She let out her breath. Of course there wasn’t. Before any of that happened, Cisco had to give her an answer, and she had to proceed from there.

_Please let him say yes,_ she thought. _Please._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now it's time for Cisco's answer. And his Terrible Secret.
> 
> Heh heh heh.

All week, Caitlin told herself she needed to give Cisco space. That this was a very big decision. She'd been mulling it over for a month. Cisco might be more decisive by nature, but nobody could make a decision of this magnitude without serious thought. So she just needed to leave it alone, let him come to her, just relax and breathe. It was out of her hands, she knew. Whether Cisco said yes or no, she couldn't have any effect on his decision.

Naturally, by the next Tuesday morning, she was wound up to a fever pitch. 

That day wound up being a total zoo, and it was late at night when they were all finally turning off the lights and shutting down the computers. Caitlin thought she might vibrate out of her skin. _Relax,_ she told herself. _Breathe. It’s only been a week since you asked him to do you a huge favor, and the week turned out to be crazy. Do not accost him in the parking lot in ten minutes and demand to know whether he's going to help you have a baby. You can give him another day. Or two._

Oh, god, _two?_

"Knock, knock," his voice said, and she turned to see him leaning in the doorway of her lab.

"Hey!" she said brightly, hoping she didn't sound like a rabid squirrel.

“Hey," he said. "So. Jitters?"

Her heartbeat doubled until she could almost feel it buzzing in her ears. "Yes," she said immediately. "Just let me finish cleaning up."

He came and helped her, shutting cabinets and shutting off machines. When they were done, he opened a breach to an alley they often used, and she jumped through. They walked to Jitters in silence. She could feel her shoulders knotting up.   
How did you even start this conversation?

He held the door for her and said, “Hey, I'll order. You got it last time. What do you want, a latte?"

"Something decaf, I think," she said. She'd drunk enough of Cisco's terrible swampy black coffee today at the lab that she could feel her bones vibrating. At this rate, she'd never get to sleep. "Hot chocolate?"

"On it."

"You want a table or a booth?"

"Either’s good.”

Their conversation felt stilted and awkward, like a blind date. A bad one.

She found a nice-looking booth and sat down, breathing carefully and mindfully like her therapist told her to. Another thing her therapist told her to do was imagine both the best and worst case scenarios, which she’d been doing all week.

She pictured the baby she’d been picturing all week, smiling Cisco’s big smile. Her lips curved.

Then she forced herself to consider the worst-case scenario. "No," he would say. "No, I don't want to give you my sperm so you can have a baby. And furthermore, I think the whole thing is a bad idea. I don't think you should be a mom. It's a selfish, irresponsible, narcissistic whim. You're a terrible excuse for a human being. You would ruin any baby beyond the hope of redemption."

She squeezed her eyes shut. Cisco wouldn't say that.

Not unless he really, truly thought it.

Oh god.

"Hey," his real voice said, and she jumped, blinking her eyes open to stare across the table at him.

"Falling asleep?" he asked, taking a bite out of a scone.

"N-no," she said. "Just thinking."

"I thought I smelled smoke." He grinned at her.

She smiled shakily back and looked down at the plate in front of her. He'd gotten her a muffin. It looked delicious and lunch had been many hours ago, but her stomach was churning now and she didn't think she could keep it down if she took a bite now. "Thank you for this," she mumbled.

"Look," he said, and she looked back up. "I think you know why I suggested coffee after the day we’ve had.”

She swallowed. “Yes.”

“I’ve got an answer, but it’s not a simple one. I'm just going to lay it out if that's okay."

She folded her hands tightly in her lap. She told herself that she'd considered all the ways this could go and she knew how she would respond to each, and she'd even practiced in the mirror. Whatever happened next, she would handle it. "Go ahead.” 

"I don't want to be your - what'd you call it? - your known donor."

Her stomach dropped all the way down. "Okay," she said, trying to remember the speech she'd worked out for this eventuality. "Well, thank you so much for considering it. I completely understand. It's really a very - "

He held up his hand. "Wait a minute, I'm not done."

Oh, no, he really didn't think she should be a mom. Her eyes started to burn. "Okay," she said, hearing her voice tremble.

He took a deep breath. "If I have a baby with you, I want to be their dad."

For a moment she couldn't think. This didn't compute. "But - but you just said - "

"I just said I didn't want to hand over a piping hot cup of DNA and be out the door. I want them to know who they are and where they come from, on both sides. I want them to call my mom Nana and I want them to know my family. What I want to is be their father, not just a sperm donor.”

She gaped at him. She'd never taken this into consideration.

His hands flexed around his coffee cup. "So. Uh. What do you think?"

"I - I - " She put her hand to her temple. "I didn't know you wanted to be a parent yet. Or ever."

“I’m like you. I always wanted kids, but someday. Not right away.” He shrugged. "I was thinking this over and I realized I didn't want to be good ol' Uncle Cisco if it was really my own kid."

She felt like there was something he wasn't telling her, but she felt so off-balance by this sudden new pathway that she couldn't work out quite what.

The barista brought their drinks over - it was slow, and they were regulars, and Cisco was always a lavish contributor to the tip jar. They smiled and murmured thanks, and when she went away again, Caitlin said, "Can you give me a moment to think here?”

"Sure. Do you want me to go?"

"No, please, stay, just give me a moment."

"Okay." He took a bite of scone again, looking out the window.

Ever since she'd started thinking about this, she'd pictured parenting on her own. Her love life had been such a disaster over the past few years that it had felt downright futile to try looking for someone she could love, who could accept the madness of her life, who also wanted to start a family right away. 

But parenting with someone? With Cisco?

She shut her eyes and visualized her baby again. Then she pictured Cisco next to her, beaming down into their baby's face. Sliding the soft, wiggling weight into his arms and watching as he kissed their inky black hair and whispered words of adoration. The baby taking their first lurching steps from her arms into Cisco's. Cisco taking entire gigabytes of pictures for their child's first day of school, every birthday and momentous occasion.

Her throat knotted up.

God, that felt right.

She opened her eyes and found Cisco picking at his scone, pulverizing the crumbs between thumb and forefinger. He looked tense and pale, and she realized that he had actually been worried that this would be a dealbreaker.

As if he'd sensed her gaze, he looked up. "Well?"

She smiled at him. "You know how I said I'd be beyond lucky to have a baby as wonderful as you? I'd be even luckier to raise that baby with you."

A strange expression crossed his face. “So,” he said. “So, we’re going to do this, then.”

“Yep,” she said, feeling giddiness sweep over her.

“I”m having a baby with you.”

“I’m having a baby with _you,_ ” she said. 

He smiled at her, big and bright, and lifted his mug. “To the future Snow-Ramon baby.”

She clinked mugs with him. She couldn’t stop smiling. “May we meet him or her as soon as possible.”

“Hear, hear,” he said with deep feeling, taking a drink. He lowered his mug, licking whipped cream off the corner of his mouth. “You’re gonna be an amazing mom, you know.”

“You’re going to be a wonderful dad.”

“I’ll try,” he said. He looked around. “Hey, I think they’re closing. We'd better scoot out before they make us wash dishes." He pointed at her hot chocolate. "You want a go-cup for that?"

"No, I'm all right."

He pushed his hot chocolate away from him. "Yeah, I think I am too."

They bused their dishes and threw away the trash, waving goodbye to the Jitters staff. "You want to come to my place and talk about this some more?" she asked.

"Actually," he said. "I'm really tired out from today and I just want to crash. Is that okay? Can we leave the whole logistics discussion for tomorrow?"

"Yeah, of course!" She was tired too, her own weariness and the soporific effects of the hot chocolate doing battle with elation. "You want to come over for dinner? There really are a lot of things to talk about. I have - "

"A list, I bet.”

“Well. Yes.”

He laughed. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

“I have some of my research if you want to look it over beforehand.”

“Oh my god. Am I gonna get an accordion file stuffed full of pamphlets dumped on my desk tomorrow?”

She sniffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. Think of the environment. They’re in PDF format in my Dropbox. I’ll share them with you tonight.”

He snorted with laughter. “Okay.”

“Will you really read them? Or will you just ignore them?”

“I’ll look at them,” he said. “Really. I might die of boredom, but I’ll look at them.”

She laughed, feeling like a butterfly set free. On impulse, she flung her arms around him. "Thank you," she whispered in his ear. "Thank you so much."

He hugged her back, his arms tight around her. She wondered why.

Maybe just that he'd made a huge, life-altering decision today. 

He eased back and smiled into her face. "Hey, you know what?"

"What?"

"This is gonna be the luckiest kid. With us for parents? We're both gorgeous, brilliant, and have amazing fashion sense. So lucky!"

She wiped her eyes. "I know, right? Little baby souls are already lining up for the chance to be our son or daughter."

"Oh, they so are. Hey, can I give you a ride home?”

It was dark and her feet hurt from being on them all day. “I would love that,” she said.

* * *

Cisco dropped Caitlin off and then breached home himself. The minute the breach had closed behind him, he dropped onto the couch, staring at the ceiling.

Okay, he was going to have a kid.

He was going to _leave behind_ a kid.

Maybe this had changed things. Maybe the vibe that had been hitting him over the past few days would be different now that he'd actually made this decision.

He shut his eyes and let his mind relax, as if he was about to fall asleep. That was when the vibe had been intruding the most. 

Caitlin, walking through a snow-smudged landscape. She looked pale and somber. Did she also look pregnant? Hard to say. Her coat was loose enough that she could be hiding a mid-size bump under there.

The edges of the vibe were smearier than usual. He could just about see Caitlin and the path she walked along, damp with melting snow. The rest was blurred, like he was looking at it through Vaseline-smeared glass.

She turned off the path, her shoes sinking into the muddy ground. She was walking slower now, peering at the ground as if looking for something.

She paused and crouched, brushing leaves and half-melted snow away from a flat stone with her gloved hands.

From this angle, he could only see about half of the name and date carved into the stone. 

-isco Ramon, it said, and underneath, -2019.

He yanked his eyes open with a gasp. 

No matter how many times he saw this - how many times he _made_ himself see it - he could never get used to seeing his own grave.


	3. Chapter 3

Three days before, Cynthia had said, “Some of us consider it a perk.”

He sat in the office that had been Breacher’s, now hers, and stared at her. “Advance warning of your own death is a perk?” he echoed. “You guys ever thought about a staff gym?”

She leveled one of her looks at him.

“It could have a smoothie bar. People love those.”

She narrowed her eyes and twisted her lips, in that way that had always meant, _You’re not being nearly as cute as you think you are._ “Believe it or not, death vibes come in handy,” she said. “Why do you think so many breachers are in dangerous professions?”

“Cuz you’re all addicted to adrenaline?” he suggested. “Which gave me a miss.”

“We get a heads-up,” she said. “It’s easier to do the job when all you have to worry about is getting hurt, not dying.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Sounds like it.”

She unlocked a cabinet to reveal the coffee maker he’d re-wired to work with an Earth-19 power supply and given to her for their three-month anniversary. At the time, she’d looked it like it was made of solid gold. She picked up the bag of dark roast he’d brought her and tipped it in his direction. “You want?” she asked.

He shook his head.

“Don’t know how you just turn this down,” she muttered, scooping grounds into the machine and setting it to brew. She clicked it closed and wiped a little dust off the top with her fingertip.

He listened to the coffee perk and breathed in the smell, thinking. “Okay,” he said. “So it’s a breacher thing. How does it work? What do people normally see?”

“Depends,” she said, getting out a coffee cup and setting it on the hot plate. “Some see their dead body. Some, the face of the person who’s going to kill them. Some see the moment of their death. And some, like you, see their grave.” She watched the coffee drip into the cup. “Nobody gets all the details.”

“But I’ve died before,” he said as a thought occurred. “Twice.”

“Close brushes don’t count,” she said.

“No, there was once where my heart got legit crushed in my chest. Do not recommend, by the way. Barry did a rewind sort of thing and undid it, which is why I’m sitting here today. My point is, I never got a warning.”

“When was that? Before your powers started to come in?”

“Well . . . Sort of. Right at the beginning.”

“Mmm. And you never got suddenly suspicious of someone you’d always trusted? Never got a bad feeling about a particular place or thing for no reason?”

“I - “ He sat back. “Okay. But Barry ran back time and I didn’t end up dead.”

“You did in one timeline. Just not this one.”

He pressed his lips together. “Wait. Nora!”

“Uh, no,” she said. “Cynthia, remember?”

“No, I meant - Barry and Iris’s daughter, Nora, dropped in from the future. For about a month there, we were all working day and night to fix things so she could go back. She didn’t tell us much because spoilers, you know, but she knew me. From the future. How could she know me if I’m going to die?”

“Time travel screws things up. You know that. Sure, she knew you, but she knew you in a timeline where she hadn’t yet gone into the past.”

“Are you saying this is her fault?”

She let out a huff. “No. That’s not what I’m saying. But she wasn’t supposed to be in this time, and the butterfly effect is real.” She turned to him, arms crossed, chin set. “Look, Cisco, it doesn’t matter why or how. You’ve got the death vibe. She might have remembered you from the future she came from, but she went back to a future where you died next year. The death vibe doesn’t lie.”

Cisco swallowed.

The coffeemaker shut off. She turned back and picked up her cup, breathing it in and then taking the first sip.

“What if,” he said. “Okay, hear me out. It’s just a grave. What if it’s not my grave? What if it’s someone else with a similar name? What if it’s a case of mistaken identity? What if I’m in witness protection and they had to fake my death to cover it up?”

She looked up wearily. “Do you really think you’re saying anything that hundreds of breachers before you haven’t said when they got this?”

“I wouldn’t know,” he snapped. “As established on multiple fucking occasions when we were dating, I don’t know jack about this breacher business. I wasn’t born into it like some people.”

“Well, they do,” she snapped back. “I’ve heard it. Maybe, maybe, maybe, and you know where they always end up?”

“Please say Disneyland.”

“Please take this seriously.”

“I am,” he snarled. “It’s you who’s all like, oh well, you’re gonna snuff it, nice knowin’ ya.”

She slammed the cup down on her desk, and drops of coffee sprayed over her paperwork. “What do you want me to do? Weep and wail? Run around like a crazy person trying to change fate? I can’t change it! You can’t change it. Nobody can, that’s the point. It’s part of the deal, Cisco. We get enormous, multi-dimensional powers, but when our time is up, it’s up. That’s just the way it is.”

There were tears in her eyes. He looked away, feeling the same tears knot his throat. “So I’m supposed to, what, lie down and take it?”

“I don’t know,” she said, rubbing her temples. “People do all sorts of things. My grandpa went on a wild crazy spending spree in his last month. This one guy I knew went and got a margarita on every single Earth he could find. My aunt retired immediately from the agency and spent the last ten weeks of her life gardening.”

He looked up. “Shit, did your dad - ?”

“I asked him,” she said. “When he told me he was retiring. He said no. I believe him.”

“What do I do?”

“That’s up to you,” she said. “It’s your life, Cisco.”  
  
“I don’t even know exactly how long I have,” he said. “I just saw the year. Next year. It could be after the clock strikes midnight on New Year’s, or it could be a firecracker accident on July 4th, or I could choke to death on a candy corn on Halloween.”

She frowned at him. “That’s pretty fuzzy, even for a death vibe.”

He opened his mouth.

“Just because it’s fuzzy doesn’t mean it’s not a death vibe. Some people have gotten them and not even known what they were until it happened. At least you know.”

"Yay," he said sarcastically, and rubbed his eyes. “If I tell my friends, they’ll run around like crazy people, trying to change fate. I saw it two years ago.”

“What’s-her-face. Iris.”

“Mmmm.”

“If it’d make you feel better,” she said, picking up her coffee again. She wiped belatedly at the coffee spots on her paperwork. “But it’s not like it’s going to work.”

“Iris lived.”

She shrugged. “But it all happened the way you saw it,” she said. “You didn’t change anything, really. You get that.”

He hauled himself to his feet. “I’m gonna go. I’ve got things to think about.”

She looked up at him. “I am sorry,” she said, her voice cracking. “You have no idea how much. I just can’t do anything about it, and neither can you.”

“I know,” he said.

“Come back before New Year’s,” she said. “We’ll take a day.”

He nodded, although he wasn’t sure if he would or not. He tossed out his arm and opened up a breach in her wall. Before he jumped through, he paused and looked at her again. He’d been ready to be with her. For about a year, he’d been convinced she was the one he’d grow old with. Now he was walking away. Again. “Hey.”

She was staring into her coffee cup, and looked up. “Mmm?”

“You think if I’d taken the job here -”

“Cisco,” she said softly, and he stopped. “What-ifs are a dead-end road. Don’t go down it.”

* * *

Lying on his couch, Cisco wondered if any other breacher who’d gotten the heads-up about their own death had decided to run out and have a baby.

He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, wondering as he'd been wondering almost all week whether he was doing the right thing. But Caitlin had already been prepared to do this on her own. The difference was his baby would have that connection to his family. Even if he wasn't around.

He'd always wanted to have kids someday, some far-off distant day where he'd be ready for them. He loved kids - their funny faces and their weird take on life and the way they suddenly got a whole entire personality even though you could still pick them up and cart them off to naptime. He looked forward to having someone call him Daddy, and seeing what that someone would turn into as they grew.

For awhile, he'd been thinking that Cynthia would be their mom. She would’ve been a good one, he’d thought. But she'd been clear as a lightning strike. No kids for her, not ever, don't even think about it. Something about her mom that she refused to get into. Which was her decision and he respected it, but that had been his first inkling that they might not want the same future.

Caitlin would be a great mom. She probably already had the nursery planned out, five child-development books on her bookshelf, and a college savings account started. He hoped she would remember to have fun with them too.

He reached over for his phone, checking the date.

It was mid-September. He'd only ever seen the year on his gravestone, not the day or month. So that meant he had until anywhere from January first to December thirty-first of next year. Depending on how well this went, he might have as much as six months with his baby before the end came.

He shut his eyes tight. _My baby,_ he asked the corner of his brain that ran his vibes. _I want to see my baby._

Blue shivered behind his eyelids, but refused to form into a clear picture. He gritted his teeth. _Come on. Let me see them._

But nothing came through.  

He shouldn't be surprised. It was always harder to vibe on a specific person without something they'd handled, and it was likewise harder to vibe on a person he'd never met. Not only had he never met this person, they didn't actually exist yet.

In a way, they did, though. A sperm in his body and an egg in Caitlin's, waiting to meet up.

He opened his eyes with a sigh. Staring up at the ceiling, he carefully built a mental picture. A soft, round-faced little nugget, with Caitlin's Bambi-brown eyes and the glint of red in their soft wispy hair. Probably making a skeptical face at him, the way their mama so often did.

He smiled in spite of himself.

His phone buzzed, and he checked it. A text from Caitlin: _Check your Dropbox._

Right. All those articles and things she'd promised him.

Normally he'd put it off, but he swiped his Dropbox open right away. He wanted to find out as much as he could. Specifically, how long this was supposed to take.

He was running against the clock here.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm back! So this week you get two chapters, and here's why. I didn't post anything on this the last couple of weeks because I was really trying my hardest to finish up The Traveler. But ALSO, the second chapter of this update is going to be somewhat explicit. For that reason and for reasons of length, I broke it into its own chapter. So if that's not your jam, you're welcome to skip it but you still got an update this week.

When Caitlin walked into the cortex the next morning, Iris spotted her and yelped. “I just got your text!” She came and hugged her. “Caitlin, you’re going to have a baby!”

Caitlin hugged her back. “He just said yes, that’s all. There’s still a lot more to get done before we can call you Auntie Iris.”

“Still,” Iris said. “I knew he’d say yes. When has he ever turned you down for anything?”

“This was a big favor,” Caitlin said. “And he changed the terms a little.”

“What do you mean?”

“He wants to be the baby’s dad.”

Iris’s brow furrowed. “That’s what you were asking him for, right?”

“No, I was asking for a sperm donation! I was planning on being a single mom with a known donor. I thought he would prefer to be the baby’s favorite uncle. It never crossed my mind that he’d want to be a dad.”

Iris hummed a little. “Well, it makes sense to me.”

“It does? Because I never thought of Cisco as wanting children.”

“You’ve never said anything about wanting kids,” Iris pointed out. “I thought you were happy being Auntie Caitlin until you told me about the doctor’s appointment.”

“I always thought of having kids someday, but I also thought I had more time to find them the right father. But Cisco has always seemed perfectly happy with his life exactly the way it is.” 

Iris took her hand. “Look, you know that whole thing about the single guy whose biggest nightmare is kids and commitment? It’s bullshit. Nonsense made up by the patriarchy and people who want to sell action movies. If you ask me, most men think about true love and babies as much as most women do. More.”

Caitlin smiled a little. “Ronnie was talking about kids almost the second we got engaged.”

“See? Look, Cisco’s turning thirty next year. And he was pretty serious about Cynthia. He probably thought about a future with her, even though it didn’t work out in the end, and that’s not a mindset that goes away once you realize you’re ready for it. Like I said, I’m not surprised he wants to be a parent.” Iris looked at her shrewdly. “Are you worried that he won’t be a good dad?”

“What? No!” Caitlin cried. “He’ll be an amazing dad.”

“Okay, so - ?”

“I just have to get used to the idea of him as a co-parent. We’ve been friends for so long, this is going to change things.”

Iris patted her shoulder. “Don’t think of it as changing your friendship. Think of it as adding something new to what’s already great.”

Caitlin nodded. “I like that. Yes.” She suddenly pressed her fingers to her lips. “Iris,” she squealed softly. “Iris, I’m going to have a baby!”

“Yeah, you are!” Iris hugged her again.

* * *

Caitlin had vague thoughts of making something nice for their planned dinner. She’d even put a couple of chicken breasts in the fridge to thaw before going in to work. 

But it ended up being another crazy day and another late night. By the time they'd all decided to pack it in, the moon shone brightly through the skylights in the cortex.

"Hey," Cisco said, coming up next to her. "We still on for dinner?"

She put her hand to her stomach, which growled loudly. "Do you mind takeout?" 

"Hell, no," he said promptly. "Get that food in my belly ASAP. What do you want?"

"You pick."

"Dangerous," he said. "Okay, meet you back at your place." He breached away, too fast for her to see where he was going. She'd just have to be surprised.

She'd driven in this morning, and had to drive her car back. It wasn't a very long drive, but still, she wasn't one hundred percent surprised to see him already pulling plates out of her cupboards when she unlocked her front door. "Hey," he said. "Stopped by Taco Galaxy.”

“I see that,” she said, opening up the familiar paper bag, spangled with stars, that sat on her table. She breathed in the smell and felt her mouth water. “What did you get?”

“Two Gas Giants,”  he said, bringing the plates to the table and setting them across from each other. “You want chicken or beef?"

She was all right with either, but knew he preferred carne asada. “Chicken, please,” she said, pulling out the giant burrito marked with a PA and setting it on her plate. "Did they send - "

He retrieved his own burrito and handed her the smaller bag and cup that had nestled at the bottom. "Extra chips and guac, like I would forget."

"Mmm, thanks." She got out an extra-thick stack of napkins, knowing how messy and delicious the burritos were going to be, and then took out a large bottle of orange soda from the fridge. 

He smiled when he saw it. "For me?"

"I'm certainly not drinking it," she said.

By the time she'd eaten half the burrito and most of the chips and guac, she felt more human. Cisco had devoured his entire burrito and was looking more alive as well. He took a drink of orange soda and set it down with a sigh. "That's better."

"Much," she agreed, licking a little guacamole off her thumb. "So."

"So," he echoed.

They looked at each other for a moment. 

She licked her thumb again, nervously, forgetting she'd gotten all the guacamole the first time. "Did you see the list of questions?"

"Yyyyeaaaahhhh," he said, drawing it out. "And don't you think you're getting ahead of yourself there?"

"Those are important things!" she protested. "Schooling and religion and child-rearing practices - "

"Sure, yeah, but don't you think we should actually try to get you pregnant first?"

"All the websites recommend discussing these matters with your partner before you get pregnant," she said. 

"When did you have time to read all these websites with all their great advice about co-parenting?" he asked. "You were planning on being a single mom until last night."

"I ran across them here and there while I was doing my other research," she said.

He raised his brows.

"And . . . I might have done some more research last night," she admitted.

"Of course you did," he said fondly.

"And I know we're not married or even dating. But that's even more reason to be clear with each other."

"Look," he said, reaching across the table for her hand. "It'll be fine, okay? It's us. We've been through a lot together."

She chewed her lip. "I'd just rather have a reasonable discussion now then be screaming at each other later."

"We'll handle it. The future will take care of itself. Let's focus on what's in front of us, right?"

She let it go with a sigh. There was plenty of time ahead of her to convince him to have these discussions. Even though she knew he was very much a here-and-now person, she was a little surprised at how hard he was resisting it. She'd thought he would have strong opinions about religious upbringing, at the very least.

"So," he said, pulling out his phone. "All this conception business is crazy complicated stuff. I had no idea. Did you see how much in-vitro costs?" 

His righteous indignation brought a smile to her face. "Yes, I did."

"Up to 15k a pop! That's craziness! And no guarantee it'll work the first time, or the second, or the third - And in this state, insurance isn’t required to cover it. They'll cover boner pills right out the gate for some old fart wanting to bang his secretary, but they won't cover some poor lesbian couple who just wants to make a family? That's some bullshit."

"IVF is sort of the nuclear option," she said. "There are others."

"I read about the others," he said. "And those are really bananas. It can be four thousand dollars for what's basically a turkey baster up your hoo-ha. Are you kidding me!"

"To be fair," she said, fighting to keep a straight face, "it's a very sophisticated turkey baster up my hoo-ha."

"It's a fucking racket. I blame Trump."

“I enjoy blaming Trump as much you do, but reproductive health and infertility coverage have been a shitshow since long before he took office. We can write to our congresspeople, but first can we talk about which option we actually want to take for our baby?”

He fingered his phone. “This is a lot more than I realized,” he admitted.

“Are you really weirded out?”

“Nnnnooooooo,” he said slowly. “But it’s a lot more than I thought it would be. Doctor appointments and tests and pills and - it could take forever.”

She reached across the table to touch his wrist, and he looked up at her. "Cisco, are you concerned about the cost? Because, don't be. I have savings, and I have investments that I can cash in, and - "

"No," he said, waving that away. "I don't care about the money. I said I wanted to be your equal partner in this and that includes the medical bills. I just think it's crazy how complicated it is to make a baby.”

“It’s not as bad as it sounds,” she said. “I hit you with a lot of articles, I realize, and some of them very dense and jargony. But there are pretty simple options we could start with, including, um.” She looked at her plate, feeling heat leak up her neck and stain her cheeks. “Including the traditional way.”

Silence.

The heat crept further up her face. 

“You mean us,” he said finally. “Doing the dirty.”

“It’s free, and doesn’t require specialized equipment or medical experts,” she said. “And it’s proven effective for the vast majority of human parents since, you know. Ever.”

More silence. Great, Caitlin. Freak him out, why don’t you.

“You don’t think that -” He broke off.

She looked up.

“I was about to say, you don’t think that might make things weird.” His mouth quirked up at the corner. “But we’ve already decided to have a baby together.”

“Yeah,” she said. “We’re pretty far into weird already.”

He nodded a couple of times and pressed his finger to a grain of rice that had fallen out of his Gas Giant. He sucked it off his finger meditatively.

“If you’re not ready for something like that - I mean, after Cynthia.”

“I’ve been dating,” he said.

“Yeah, but for fun,” she said. “This is different.”

“You’re not wrong. I've been looking for no-strings and this is . . . well. Strings. Lots of them.”

She chewed her lip. “Well, a baby is a string,” she said. “And our friendship, and working together - those are more strings. But it only has to be messy if we let it. I mean, we’ve already got two of the things you wanted out of your next relationship. Fun and companionship.”

“So we’re just adding sex?”

“Yes.”

“Let me ask you something,” he said. “And I can’t think of a way to say this without sounding either self-deprecating or totally vain, so whatever way it comes out, it’s going to come out.”

She nodded.

“I’m not so much a fan of going to bed with someone who’s going to lie there and think of England. So, do you want to have sex with me just to get a baby? Or do you want to have sex with _me?”_

She went beet red. She could feel it, all the way up to her hairline. Her mind had gone blank. She was so bad at awkward conversations. 

He raised his brows at her. “Answer the question, Dr. Snow,” he said.

“I’ve thought about it,” she blurted. “You. Having sex with you. And it’s a tempting thought.”

His brows went up. “Just since you hatched your baby plan?”

She shook her head.

He sat back. “Huh,” he said softly.

“The timing was always off,” she said. “And the longer we’ve known each other, the less important some one-night romp was, next to our friendship. There’s not even any guarantee we’d be good together.” She clamped her mouth shut, horrified. How had she let that slip out? 

But he nodded, pooching his lips a little “That’s fair,” he said. “Nothing worse than a total lack of chemistry when you’re naked.”

She relaxed and nodded. “It’s awful.” You had to smile and act like you were into it so as not to hurt his feelings, and most of the time fake an orgasm.

“Usually there are signs,” he said. “On one side or another.”

She felt like they’d talked themselves into a corner. “Does all this mean that you do or you don’t want to try conceiving naturally? It’s okay if you don’t.”

“And if I do?”

Oh, there was the blush again. “Then, um. I think we should try it.”

He smiled a little. “Suggestion?”

“Yes.”

“I vote we test the waters.”

“In what way?”

“Let’s fool around a little. Just to see if the signs are all there that we might be good together.”

She caught her breath. Her heart thudded heavily in her chest. “Now?”

“If you want.”

“When you say fool around -”

He grinned, unexpectedly bright. “Gotta set the parameters, don’t you?”

“Always,” she returned. 

He ticked things off on his fingers. “Snuggling. Kissing. A little handsy stuff maybe if we’re both into it. But really we can go right up until one of us says stop.”

She chewed her lip. “What if we get to a point where -”

“Stop,” he said, and she swallowed the words. “It’s all you need to say, Caitlin. I promise.”

“And if I don’t say stop? Or you don't?"

“Then we see how far we get, I guess.”

She jumped up, and he sat back, eyes wide. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I just think maybe I should clean up.” She bundled her half-burrito back into its wrapper and put it in the paper bag. She could eat it for lunch tomorrow. 

“Want help?”

“Oh, no, no, you got the food.”

“Yeah, it was a strain, all right, waiting around for them to make our burritos.”

“No,” she said, waving him away. “I’m okay. Let me clean up.”

He watched her for a moment. “Okay,” he said. “Do you need a moment here to make up your mind or - ?”

She paused in the act of screwing the lid back onto the bottle of soda. The question mark hung in the air. She set the bottle down and looked at him. “No, I don’t,” she said. “I’d like to - how did you put it?”

“Test the waters,” he supplied.

“Yes. That. With you. Tonight. I just want to put all the dinner things away first.”

She cringed, hearing it. What kind of date wanted to _clean the kitchen_ before making out? But she needed to organize something. Her mind, maybe.

Cisco frowned at her. Then it eased away as he seemed to hear what she wasn’t saying. “You need that?”

“Yes,” she said. 

“Okay,” he said, as if it were perfectly normal. “Right. In that case, I’m going to - um. Bathroom.”

“Mmmhm!” she said brightly.

He disappeared down the hall and she focused on cleaning up, putting the dishes in the dishwasher, putting the soda back in the fridge, and wiping the table. She looked around, realized there was nothing else for her to straighten up, and hung the damp cloth over the faucet. 

She went into her living room and looked around again. There was a distinct lack of ambiance. She turned off all but one lamp, then found two wine glasses and a bottle of white she’d been saving for some reason she didn’t remember, and set them on the coffee table. She  arranged jar candles, then thought that might be going too far, and put them away on the side table again.

She grabbed her forehead. “Caitlin,” she muttered to herself. “You’re being weird.”

She turned on one more lamp. Okay. That was okay.

She went to her bedroom and studied herself in the mirror on the back of her bathroom door. Should she change her outfit? She looked reasonably cute, she thought. In a professional kind of way. She unbuttoned her blouse and studied the edge of her bra that showed. Plain blue, middle-of-the-road for her. Not stretched out or faded, and it was at least satin. But it didn’t match her panties.

She blushed and buttoned herself back up. She was being ridiculous. Nobody was saying he was going to see her underwear tonight.

_Nobody's saying he won't, either,_ a sly little voice piped up.

She took a shaky breath and thought, _Maybe this is a mistake._

For years, she’d been able to depend on Cisco’s friendship, even when she knew she didn’t deserve it. It was like the ground beneath her feet, steady and solid, holding her up. 

It felt like the ground was shifting. 

They would still be friends, she reminded herself. She’d left that particular fairy tale behind a long time ago. Sex didn’t automatically equal love. It was just sex.

But it would still change things. And she didn't like change. She never had.

She bit her lip. 

_You knew things were going to change when you asked him to help you have a baby,_ she told herself.

Change wasn’t bad. It was just change. And just because they kissed or groped or actually had sex, it didn’t mean they couldn’t decide that it hadn’t been right for them and go back to their non-sexual relationship. 

It’s all you need to say, he’d told her.

She nodded at herself. _All you need to say is stop. Not just tonight. Anytime._

_So, for tonight, Caitlin, just go._

She fluffed her hair and decided at the last minute to brush her teeth. As she spat toothpaste into the sink, she suddenly wondered how long it had been since Cisco had gone to the bathroom. Maybe she was going to find a text on her phone that he’d given up and gone home.

Of course he wouldn’t do that. It was Cisco.

But still, she scrambled out of her room and back to the living room, where she found him on the couch, studying the wine bottle. “Hey,” he said, looking up. “Didn’t I give you this last Christmas?”

“I think so,” she said, and remembered that she’d been saving it to split with him. But with hunting DeVoe and him spending more time with Cynthia and then everything that had happened over the summer, that had never happened. 

Well. It was happening now.

He set it back down. “Well, it’s a nice wine, but I don’t think it’s going to go well with the toothpaste.”

“How did you know I brushed my teeth?”

“You did?” he asked.

They blinked at each other in mutual confusion for a moment, and then - “Oh,” she said. “You meant you did.”

“There was still some of my old stuff in the guest bathroom,” he said. “Hope that’s okay.”

She sat down next to him, perched on the edge of the cushion, clutching her knees. Then she made herself relax. “No,” she said. “It’s yours. It’s fine.”

The idea sat somewhere warm in her stomach, that he’d been thoughtful enough - or nervous enough - to brush his teeth, too. So there they both were, all minty-fresh breath and nerves.

Was she too close? Too far? She was pricklingly aware of his body - of his shoulders and the muscles in his arms and the warmth he threw off, and some bright, clean smell that he hadn’t had before he went to the bathroom. Not toothpaste. What was it?

He nodded, looking at her and then away. “Cool, okay.”

She finally identified the clean scent, at the same time as she realized that his jaw was smooth and unshadowed. “You shaved,” she said.

He grinned crookedly and rubbed his chin. “Yeah, I was brushing my teeth and realized I was kind of scruffy. Figured beard burn wasn’t the greatest first impression.”

She’d lifted her hand before she realized what she was doing, and froze, with her fingertips a few inches away from his cheek. He looked at her hand, looked back up into her eyes, and after a moment, dropped his own hand and tipped his head to one side, offering her the touch she wanted.

She bit her lip and moved her hand the last few inches. His skin was warm and smooth, and as she trailed her fingertips over his jaw and down his throat, he leaned into her touch, eyes still fixed on hers. 

His throat moved as he swallowed. 

Her breath came unsteady and fast, and her heart thudded hard in her chest, and the ground shifted underfoot.

She leaned forward and kissed him.

His lips were warm and soft as they moved against hers in a soft, slow, careful kiss.

They pulled apart, not far. His breath fanned over her lips. “That was nice,” he murmured.

“Mmm,” she agreed. “Again?”

“Sure,” he said, and this time he kissed her first.


	5. Chapter 5

The kiss was slow and careful at first. _This? Like this? Like that. Try that. Yes. That was good. Oh._ That worked for him.

His hand settled on her ribs, moving slowly up and down her side, warm through her shirt. She scooted closer, licking at the seam of his lips, and he opened his mouth. 

Her hand was still on his face, her fingertips running over his cheeks and his ear and then sliding into his hair, and he made a little sound in the back of his throat.

She pulled away, dropping her hand. “Sorry,” she murmured. “You don’t like that. I forgot.”

He blinked his eyes open. They were darker than usual, heavy lidded. “It’s not that I don’t like it,” he said. “It’s context.”

She frowned at him. She’d seen him smack at people’s hands, even people like Barry, when they tried to play with his hair.

“I don’t like people just up and playing with my hair unless they’re also kissing me,” he explained. 

“Oh,” she said. “Is that it?”

“Yup.”

She lifted her hand again, touching the curling ends where they lay on his shoulders, combing her fingers through them. 

“While they’re kissing you?” she murmured. 

“For preference,” he said.

She thought she could do one or the other right now, not both, and she wanted to be kissing him. She slipped her hand under his hair, around the back of his neck, and pressed her lips to his again. 

It was less cautious, hungrier. His hand pressed into the small of her back, and she thought, _Closer, closer,_ but it was awkward with their current positions, side by side on the couch. She rolled up on her hip and slid her arms fully around his shoulders. 

_I could get addicted,_ she thought. His hands and his mouth and the way he felt against her.

He left her mouth and she whimpered in protest, but it transmuted into a sigh as he pressed kisses to her jaw, her cheek. She let her head drop to the side so he could nuzzle the sensitive skin under her ear.

What with all their moving around, and the way he was stroking her back, her shirt had pulled out of the waistband of her skirt.  His fingers brushed the skin and she sighed. His hands hesitated, and she said, “Yes, please,” into his ear. She felt him smile against her neck.

Then his hands were drifting up, under the silky material. He didn’t touch her breasts, just brushed his fingers over her ribs and her stomach as he licked into the hollow of her throat. Her breasts felt tight and warm and she waited for his mouth to move down or his hands to move up. Blood thudded in all sorts of places around her body. 

He lifted his head to look at her. “Hey,” he said. “You good?”

“Yes,” she said. “You?”

He nodded.

They just looked at each other a moment. There was a little smudge of her lipstick at the corner of his mouth that had transferred. His hands were still under her shirt. 

_We could stop,_ she thought. _Here. This is a lot already._

This spot, kissing and a little touching, was where she often stopped on first dates. Still fully clothed, but attraction and chemistry established. Thank you very much, that was nice, I’ll see you soon?

If she pushed his hands away or got up from the couch now, he would let her go, because he’d promised that it was all she needed to say.

She swallowed and pushed herself up. His hands dropped away, out of her shirt, and he gave a little sigh. 

She toed off her shoes, tugged her skirt up a little, and straddled his lap, her knees pressing into her couch cushions. His hands caught her hips. His eyebrows had flown up in surprise. “Okay?” She asked him.

“Yeah,” he said. 

She kissed him, holding his shoulders until they both got used to this new position. His hands flexed on her hips. He licked her throat again, and she remembered why she’d wanted to change positions, other than the pleasure of being pressed up against him, hips to shoulders. She leaned back and started to unbutton her shirt.

His eyes followed her fingers, lingering on the skin revealed, the inner curves of her breasts. Against all logic, her skin warmed as it was exposed the air, exposed to his eyes. When she breathed in, she was desperately aware of the rise and fall of her breasts. 

(She wouldn’t contemplate until much later that he’d ended up seeing her underwear after all.)

She undid the last button and shrugged her shirt off, tugging it down her arms, tossing it on the floor. 

He pressed his mouth to her throat again, licking, humming against her skin. Traced a path over her collarbone, to the little dip just before her shoulders. Kissed his way down the slope of her breast. Licked a line of fire just above the top edge of the cup. 

She reached behind her back and undid the hooks. Her bra loosened. He lifted his head as she pulled the straps down, over her shoulders, down her arms, until it fell in between them.

He took in his breath, long and slow, and stroked his hands up her sides to cup her breasts in his warm palms. She caught a hiccup of a breath, and he lifted his eyes to hers, smiling a little. “So pretty,” he murmured, and leaned forward to press his open mouth to the curve of her breast. She sighed as his mouth moved in slow, agonizing increments and let out a little whimper as it finally closed over her nipple, a long slow suck, his tongue just touching the tip.

“You like?” he asked.

“Mmmm. Yes.”

He licked her nipples again, slow and warm, and she let herself fall into the sensation, folding over him and running her fingers through his hair until he groaned aginst her skin. She smoothed her hands over his shoulders, down his back, and the thin t-shirt fabric felt too thick, too much. “Cisco,” she said, “your shirt? Can you - ?”

He lifted his head and looked at her, smiling a little. Then he reached up to the back of his shirt and tugged it up over his head. His hair got caught in the fabric for a moment and then tumbled back down around his face and his strong bare shoulders. She reached out, smoothing her palms over his bare skin, over the curve of his deltoids and the architecture of bone and tendon, feeling her breath come short and fast.

She was his doctor; she knew his body. She knew when he needed a heat pack for his shoulder because he’d been overdoing the breaching or when he had a headache from squinting at a screen. She’d applied butterfly bandages to cuts and wrapped sprains. They’d fought side by side and helped each other back to Star Labs, sweating and panting and bleeding.

This, though.

This was Cisco’s body in a whole different context, and it was like she’d never seen or touched him even once. Not like this. Not for this. 

She stroked her hands down over his chest, his ribs, his stomach.

“What do you think?” he asked softly, and she looked up. “Is the gym time paying off?”

She smiled at him. “I’d say so.”

He cupped the back of her neck and urged her down to his mouth. She put her arms around his neck and settled against his body, skin to skin. He ran his hands down her back, mmm-ing into her mouth. Over her ass, palming her hips. His hand settled over the hem of her skirt, pushed almost all the way up her thighs. 

“Caitlin,” he said into her mouth.

“Yes,” she sighed, kissing him again. Again, again. His mouth was addictive. She couldn’t get enough of it. 

“I want to touch you.” His hand stroked over the tops of her thighs, and then dipped into the shadowy valley between her legs, feather light on the tender skin. “Here.”

Her heart thumped hard - in her chest, between her legs. “Yes,” she said. “Please.”

His index finger explored up her thigh, in the warmth and the dark. “Here?”

She rolled her hips into his touch, and he made a low sound of surprise in the back of his throat. “You’re wet,” he said, kissing her.

“Very,” she sighed. His fingertips teased her through her underwear, little jolts of sensation that weren’t even a quarter of what she wanted.

“Over or under?”

She didn’t want anything between them, just his rough fingertips working at her slick folds. “Under.”

He pulled his hand out and caught her hips. She said, “What - ?” before realizing he was shifting her off his lap.

“Better this way,” he explained as she settled back on the couch cushions next to him. He slid one arm around her shoulders and she saw what he meant as his other hand slid down her stomach, under the waist of her skirt and into her panties.She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close, sighing as his agile fingers parted her folds and slid through the slickness gathered there.

“So wet,” he murmured, kissing her neck. “Mmmm. You like that?”

Pleasure stabbed her all the way up to her throat when his finger found her clit, and a little yelping gasp escaped her throat.

“Oh, there we go,” he breathed into her ear. “That’s the good stuff right there, isn’t it?” He caught her earlobe in his teeth, nipping and then letting go. He worked her clit in soft flicks of his fingers, sending lush pleasure rippling up her spine.

She moaned, rocking her hips. “Please - “

“Please what?”

“Please, I - I want - “

He sucked her earlobe again. “You want more?”

“Yes!”

“Where?”

She didn’t even know. All her higher brain functions had shut down and she was running on nerves, on his fingers between her legs and his mouth at her ear and his voice low and rumbling and so, so dirty. 

“You know what I want?”

“Wha - ohhhh,” she sighed as he stroked her clit hard. 

“I wanna put my fingers in your pussy. What do you think?”

She panted, unable to form words.

He pressed his mouth to her neck. “I - want - “ he growled. “I want your pussy snug and hot around my fingers, dripping into my hand. Yeah?”

She nodded frantically.

“You want my fingers in you? You want my thumb on your clit?”

“Please,” she breathed.

“Please what?”

“Cisco, please!”

He moaned against her throat and then one finger pushed into her, pressing up into her until the heel of his hand cupped her fully. She squirmed and rocked, almost sobbing. 

“Good?”

“Yes,” she choked. “Yes.”

“More?”

“God, yes!”

He kissed her firmly, adding a second finger. She squeezed around him and he groaned. His thumb stroked through her folds and found her clit. “You almost there?” he said into her ear.

She squirmed some more. “I’m - so close, Cisco, please, please -”

His fingers stroked and curled inside her, and his thumb pressed hard on her clit -

Lightning shot up her spine, and everything clenched for a moment before it all let go. Pleasure seared every cell in her body. 

He pressed kisses to her throat, her ear, her hair, the corner of her mouth and kept stroking her clit as she trembled and shuddered through her orgasm. Only when she let out a sigh and sagged into his side did his hand stop. His strong arm around her shoulders pulled her close.

She sighed again, snuggling into him, turning to look him in the eyes. His were soft and warm. He kissed her lightly on the lips. “How are you doing?”

“Mmm,” she managed.

“That sounds good,” he said.

“It is.” Oh, words. She could do that again.

They sat like that for a few moments. She rested her hand on his chest, feeling the powerful thump of his heart. It was fast, and his skin was very warm, and when she looked down at his lap, his erection was thick and hard underneath his zipper.

He pulled his hand out of her underwear. His fingers gleamed with the slickness from her body. “Do you want a tissue?” she asked.

“Nope,” he said, and slid his fingers into his mouth, licking and sucking them clean, grinning at her around his hand.

She felt herself blush all the way to her hairline, part embarrassment and part lust. He dropped his hand, looking a little uncertain. She realized he thought she’d been turned off, and did the only thing she could think of to convince him otherwise - she leaned forward and kissed him hard, open-mouthed. He made a startled, happy “mmm” in his throat and pulled her close.

They kissed until they had to come up for air, and then she said shyly, “Do you want to come to bed?”

“Oh my god, yes, please,” he said. “But do you have anything? Because I don’t carry condoms in my wallet on the regular anymore.”

“A box in my bathroom,” she said. “But - “

“What?”

“Well, have you been with anyone since your last checkup?”

“No. Before tonight, the most I’ve done is kissing for about the last two months.”

“Okay,” she said. “Me neither.”

“Oh,” he said, comprehension tracking over his face. “You thinking we can go without?”

“I’m okay with it if you are.”

“I guess if we don’t need to worry about STI’s, then the only reason to use a condom is to keep from getting pregnant, and - well.”

“That’s kind of the whole point,” she finished.

“Yeah.”

“But if you’d prefer to use one - I mean, since this is an experiment, sort of.”

“No, let’s,” he said. “I mean, let’s not. You know.”

“Okay,” she said.

“Okay,” he echoed, looking as flushed, awkward, and excited as she felt.

She got up, tugging her skirt straight until he grinned at her and she realized that she was still naked from the waist up. She wrinkled her nose at him and held out her hand. He took it and stood, following her to the bedroom. 

* * *

 “So,” he said some time later. “We’re doing that again, right?”

Her lips curved. “Oh, absolutely.”

He laughed and leaned over to kiss her. She answered it enthusiastically, hands snaking over his shoulders to tug him close. Her breasts pressed soft against his chest. Their legs tangled together and the damp stickiness between her legs smeared on his thigh. They kissed and kissed and kissed.

They had to come up for air eventually. She let her head drop on the pillow and smiled at him. Her lipstick was smeared. He rubbed at it with his thumb, tenderness welling up in him. She was always so neat and put together. That was important to her; he got that. But she was smiling at him with smeared lipstick right now. She had to know, after all the kissing and other things they’d been doing, that it was smeared, and she didn’t care.

Knowing that was . . . a nice feeling somehow.

He ran his hand down her body, between her breasts, over her stomach, to rest over her belly button. “So you think maybe this did the trick?”

“No, not really,” she said.

“Hey, I have it on good authority that one is all you need.”

“Yeah, but one at the right time, and maybe not even then,” she said. “I don’t know if I’m ovulating or not. I haven’t started monitoring it yet.”

“You have to monitor it? Don’t you just know?”

“I’ve always been somewhat irregular so it’s hard to predict from the date of my last period.”

“But don’t you feel it or something?”

She peered at him. “My egg is microscopic! What am I supposed to feel?”

“I always pictured it sort of like a pinball machine. Like, ka-chunk.”

She clutched her stomach protectively. “What? No, it does not go ka-chunk. Oh my god.”

He chortled at the look on her face. She swatted his stomach.

“No,” she said. “No ka-chunk. I track my temperature and the consistency of my cervical mucus. They’ll both change before I ovulate.”

He rolled to his back. “Not to kink-shame but this is the first time I’ve ever discussed cervical mucus in bed. Not sure it’s doing anything for me.”

She propped herself up to look down at him. “There are also urine tests,” she said. “To measure my hormones. Speaking of kinky.”

“Oooh. Hot.”

She giggled and he figured he’d made up for ka-chunk. He rolled his head to the side and kissed the inside of her elbow. The skin there was as soft as satin. “So, you figure out when you’re ovulating and then we make like bunnies - for how long? Like a day? Two days?”

“A week,” she said, settling down next to him and snuggling her head on his shoulder. “More or less. And then I’ll wait another week and then take a blood test to see if we’ve conceived.”

He put his arm around her shoulder and let himself curve around her. He really, really liked cuddling after. He wondered if he’d ever told her that, or if she did too. “Not gonna pee on a stick?”

“Blood test is more accurate.”

He combed his fingers through her hair and thought hard about what he was going to say next. “What about when you’re not ovulating?”

She angled her face up to his. “What about it? Do you mean - us? What do we do?”

He nodded. 

“Normal life,” she said. “It goes on, I’m told.”

“So we’re friends with benefits, sort of?”

“If that’s okay.”

He thought about it. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah. That works. I mean - “ He waved his hand between them. “Friends.” Then put his hand on her hip. “Benefits. Makes sense.”

She bit her lip. “I’ve already told Iris that you agreed to help me have a baby. We don’t have to say anything more than that to them, if you don’t want, but I feel like they should know we’re working on this together.”

“Well, I kinda figured you weren’t going to pretend this was a virgin birth.”

She snorted daintily. “That story already got taken by a nice Jewish girl.”

“Yeah, and look what happened to her kid.” He played with her hair. “I’m not saying we should be boinking in the cortex, but I don’t want to pretend that we’re doing this artificially. We’ll just go home together and stuff, and if they ask, we’ll say.”

“Okay,” she said. She nuzzled his neck, her breath warm on his skin. “I’m glad we’re good together,” she murmured.

He would have hated it if they’d been awkward and chemistry-less in bed. That was never any fun, even when all you’d done together was a couple of dates, not years of close friendship. “Me too,” he said. “If only because it’s way more fun than a turkey baster up your hoo-ha.”

She lifted her head, scrunching her nose at him. “Way more fun,” she said, and sat up  flinging one leg over his hip so she straddled his thighs. “Are you up for more?”

He ran his hands over her hips, up her sides, cupping her breasts. “Always.”


	6. Chapter 6

The morning sun laying warm on his face woke Cisco up. He blinked into the light, feeling the sleek softness of Caitlin's sheets against his bare body, and the lush, lazy feeling of the morning after a really good night.

He rolled to his side and found Caitlin's back, smooth and soft, and her hair all tumbled next to his cheek. He pushed himself up on his elbow to peer over her shoulder. She looked deliciously peaceful in sleep, sweet and pretty and extremely kissable. "Hey, you," he said.

She grumbled and turned her face farther into the pillow.

"It's morning," he sang softly.

"Bleehhhhhh," came from the pillow's depths.

"Rise and shine, porcupine."

She growled.

He didn't take offense. Caitlin had never been what you could call a morning person. 

He danced his fingers down the slope of her arm. She squirmed and tried to swat him. "M'sleep," she mumbled. "Iss my sleep day."

It was unofficial Star Labs policy that late nights permitted late mornings the next day, provided whatever had made the night late wasn't still going on. He usually took advantage of that policy to make a full breakfast, linger over coffee, maybe catch up on a little TV. Clearly, Caitlin preferred to be lazy in a different way.

He dropped a kiss on her shoulder and saw her lips curve against the pillow. "Have it your way," he said, running his hand down her arm. "Me, I'm going to make waffles."

She flapped her hand at him and snuggled further under the covers.

He tossed the blankets aside - she squeaked as cooler air found its way into her cocoon - and hopped out of bed, rooting around on the floor until he disentangled his boxers from his pants. He stepped into them and padded barefoot out into the hall. In the living room, he found his t-shirt from the night before and tugged it on as he continued toward the kitchen. 

She had one of those pod machines and a spinny rack full of different flavors. He twirled it a few times and selected something that sounded more like a dessert than coffee. But if you couldn’t have raspberry chocolate truffle flavored coffee on a sunny, lazy morning, when could you? Plus, extra bonus, she couldn’t grumble at him for making it too strong, the way she did at Star Labs. Excuse him for actually liking to feel the caffeine buzz.

His own kitchen had a space-age espresso machine he’d bought after Cynthia was visiting - and spending the night - on a regular basis. These days, it mostly gathered dust unless he did have a lazy morning. Generally he hit Jitters instead. The water took awhile to heat. He leaned on the counter, watching it.

So, that had happened.

A couple of times.

He grinned to himself. God, life was weird. 

He’d always been attracted to Caitlin. She was beautiful, and smart, and funny, and a lot of things he liked. But when they’d met, there’d been Ronnie. And then there’d been . . . after Ronnie. And then Kendra and Jay and Julian and Cynthia and a couple of other people in there, not important enough to name. He’d gotten to the point where he figured they’d missed their opening, that they were too good of friends to ever be anything more. He’d regretted that, a little, but valued her friendship too much to pine over other forks in the road, or even to go wandering around looking for their other fates out in the multiverse.

And then last night had happened.

The whole evening, from their stumbling, awkward conversation about turkey basters to the moment she’d turned off the light and snuggled up next to him in her bed, had felt like they were on a boat sliding down a quick-moving stream, bumping and swinging around every surprising bend and twist.

He hadn’t really planned on hopping in that boat last night. It hadn’t gone anywhere he didn’t want to be, necessarily, but he hadn’t been expecting the trip at all. He didn’t think Caitlin had, either. But she’d been right there with him. Maybe that was why he’d stayed in and never once tried to pull the boat over to shore.

He whistled softly as he pulled open the fridge and started rummaging for waffle ingredients.

Then his smile faded and the lightness in his stomach turned leaden.

Maybe he should’ve pulled that boat over.

Had it been selfish of him to go to bed with her? To enjoy her mouth and her touch and her body, knowing that he was just another person she was going to lose?

Maybe what he should do this morning was, dish up a plate of waffles and say, “So, hey. I had a great time last night, and I know what we talked about. But I’ve given it some more thought and you know, maybe we shouldn’t start sleeping together. It would make things too complicated. So we’ll try the turkey baster method, okay?”

Maybe she’d agree and say she’d been thinking the same thing.

The thought sat in his stomach like a stone.

Maybe -

God.

Maybe he should call off the whole thing. What was he thinking, deliberately setting out to make a baby whose first birthday he’d never see? His kid was going to grow up without a dad. Maybe he or she would have a stepdad - and something in Cisco didn’t want to examine that thought too closely - but as awesome as stepdads could be, it wouldn’t be Cisco. There would always be a gaping hole in that little life.

What was he thinking?

He pressed his fingers to his eyes.

A sputtering, grinding noise startled him out of his morbid thoughts, and he whipped around to see Caitlin's pod coffee machine start to spit coffee into his cup. He stared at it, heart thudding, for a moment, and then relaxed.

Coffee. Just coffee.

Caitlin was strong. She’d pulled through a lot; she would pull through losing him. She would have the others. She’d be all right. She’d planned on being a single mom anyway, and it wasn’t like they were in love and planning to get married. They might have landed in bed, and they might have enjoyed it a lot, but there was a purpose behind it, and it wasn’t love or romance.

It was mid-September. He had at least three and a half months before that ominous year was upon him. Surely she’d be pregnant by then, and they would have ended their sexual relationship and gone back to being friends.

And as for the baby, if Caitlin had decided to go to a sperm bank, they always would have been a single-parent kid. At least this way, she would have the stories to tell them. And his mama would be there. They would have that connection.

It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than a lot of kids got.

Right now, he was here in his boxers in this warm, sunny kitchen, making breakfast for his old friend and his new lover and the future mother of his child. It was a good morning.

Focus on that, he told himself. The future will happen. Just be right here now.

The stream of hot coffee cut off, and he went to retrieve it. He set another cup under the spout, switched out the pod, and chose the weakest setting before going back to his waffle-making activities, slurping up the strong, dessert-flavored coffee it had produced. Huh; this wasn’t half bad. He decided to buy some more pods, because he could see himself drinking a lot of coffee in this kitchen.

He focused on eggs, milk, flour, butter. Vanilla. Did she have vanilla? Of course she had vanilla. She stress-baked, and sometimes she brought in so many cookies that even Barry looked daunted. She probably had a freakin’ gallon jug of vanilla.

“Ha!” he said, opening a cabinet and discovering her spice rack. Was it alphabetized? He grinned at the neat rack. What a nerd.

He should plug in the waffle iron so it got hot while he was mixing everything together. That was the next thing to find. He knew she had one because he’d given it to her two Christmases ago. (In his defense, she’d asked for one.) If he were Caitlin, where would he stash such a thing?

"Cisco," Caitlin said, and he turned to see her leaning against the door to the kitchen, bundled in a robe. She looked bleary-eyed, her hair wild. 

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” he said. “Good timing, your coffee’s almost ready.” The machine shut off at that moment, and he brought it to her. 

“Mmmm. Thanks.” She stuck her face in the cup.

"If you tell me where you’ve hidden your waffle iron, the waffles will be ready in no time."

She emerged from her coffee, already looking marginally more alert. "That'll have to wait." She handed him his phone. "911 from Star Labs."

"Shit," he said, seeing the text on the screen. "Barry or Iris?"

"Iris."

_"Shit,"_ he said. Barry's 911s were emergencies, but they tended to be the kind that could wait long enough for you to grab a shower. Iris's 911s were _no, I really mean it, get your butts over here._ He started putting the breakfast food away again. "I'll breach us in. How long will it take you to get dressed?"

"Five minutes," she said, and went back to her bedroom. 

He shut the refrigerator door, ran to her guest bathroom where his toothbrush was, and did a quick once-over. No time to shave. He was just going to have to be Sasquatch for a little while longer. He brushed his teeth, swiped a comb through his hair a few times, judged it passable, and went to her bedroom to get his shoes and socks.

She'd thrown on a comfortable plaid shirt and jeans, and was brushing her hair in quick strokes in her bathroom. Her toothbrush dripped gently in its holder. "Almost ready," she called out.

"Me too," he said, locating his socks. He pulled them on, grimacing at the dirty-sock feel on his feet. They all kept spare clothes in the lockers at work, so he could change them later, but who knew when that would be. He'd have to bring some over here.

The thought stilled his fingers in the middle of tying his shoes. He finished thoughtfully and then went to the bathroom. "Hey," he said.

"Okay, good to go," she said, fluffing her hair and tossing it over her shoulder. Her face was shiny and clean, but she'd slapped on only the bare minimum of makeup. Such was the power of an Iris 911.

"Cool, but hang on a sec."

"What is it?" She looked distracted, probably already running over possibilities of disaster in her mind.

"In case I don't get the chance later, I had a good time last night."

She blinked a few times as if she was coming up from deep water, then smiled shyly. "Me too."

He smiled back. “So . . . We’re on for that? No turkey baster?”

She giggled. “No turkey baster.”

“And you'll keep me up to date with the whole - " He waved a hand. "Ovulation sitch?"

"You'll be the first to know," she said.

"Awesome.”

Impulsively, he reached out to touch her cheek and felt her go still under his fingers. He was about to drop his hand when she caught his wrist, then leaned forward and kissed him, a soft, minty-fresh kiss. He returned it, cupping her face, feeling her arms settle around his shoulders. Just when he was seriously considering pretending that they hadn’t gotten the 911, his phone buzzed again. 

Caitlin sighed against his mouth and broke away. “Guess we should get going.”

“Guess so.”

* * *

Iris poked her head into Caitlin's lab around three pm. "Hey, any news from in here?"

"I've gotten some of the report," Caitlin said absently. As Iris started to come around to her monitor, she held up her hand. "I wouldn't."

"Why not?"

"I'm watching the video of the coroner's autopsy."

Iris looked green. "Thanks for the heads-up."

"I figured you were planning to eat sometime this week." Caitlin paused the video and minimized it. "Okay, safe."

Iris edged around her desk, shooting a wary sideways glance at her monitor. When it only showed a dry medical report, she relaxed. "So, what's your verdict?"  
  
"I don't have the whole report yet," Caitlin said.

"Cause of death?"

"Oh, that's the fun part. No idea."

"You and I have very different ideas of fun." Iris fiddled with her pencil. "Barry's really worried it's something he did." The victim was someone he'd saved the day before, who'd been found dead early this morning.

"I get that, but - " Caitlin shook her head. "My instincts say no."

"But you just said you have no idea of the cause of death."

"Right. Nothing matches any known cause of death, either normal or meta-related. Unless the speedforce has some new trick up its noncorporeal sleeve, this isn't on Barry."

Iris relaxed. "That's really reassuring."

Caitlin smiled at her. "I'll let you know if something turns up in the full report."

"Thanks." Iris twirled in her chair a few times. "Sooooo," she said.

Caitlin ducked her head, smirking a little. "So?"

"Have you got something to share?"

"Hmmm," she said innocently. "I'm not really sure what you're talking about."

Iris rolled her eyes. "Cisco had dinner with you last night. Then you two came in together this morning."

"You 911ed. It was faster for him to breach me in then for me to drive."

"Yeah, but he also came in with the same clothes from yesterday."

Caitlin made a prim face. "Maybe we talked very late and he slept on my couch."

"Sure, that makes perfect sense when he can breach home in an instant," Iris said. "Plus, you've got a leeeeetle beard burn."

Caitlin's hand flew to her neck, and Iris collapsed in laughter. She narrowed her eyes at her friend. "Do I really?"

"Not visible, but you sure went right to a spot, didn't you?"

She blushed.

Iris squealed softly. "I knew it."

"Okay! All right. We talked extensively about this conception and came to the conclusion - " She blushed harder. "Um, that we should try the natural way first."

"And you just had to try that out right away, didn't you?"

"Well - we weren't exactly trying to conceive last night. It was more like a trial run of - you know - each other, and how we fit together - "

Iris doubled over laughing. "Oh, honey," she said when she could breathe again. "I hope you already knew that."

"Stop!" Caitlin said, swatting her. "You know what I mean."

"Did you think it was possible he might be a dud in bed?"

"Not a dud, but you know. Bad chemistry. We've all had that happen."

Iris acknowledged that with a rueful nod. "So, I'm guessing the chemistry was pretty good.” 

"Let's just say that trying to conceive isn't exactly going to be a chore."

Iris chortled. “Okay, I’ll get the dirty details from you in a moment - “

Caitlin blushed again, but smiled, too. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a friend who wanted the dirty details. It was a nice feeling.

“But serious question, okay? What does this mean, going forward?”

“In what way?”

“I mean, with the two of you.”

“Well, I’m going to be tracking my ovulation and we’ll have pretty regular sex when I’m most fertile, so hopefully it’ll only take a few months, and then I’ll be pregnant.”

Iris eyed her. “That’s all very - clinical,” she said. “But what I meant was, what does this mean? For you guys. Your relationship.”

“That’s not going to change.” Caitlin started scanning through the coroner’s preliminary report, highlighting a number here, a measurement there.

“Riiiiight,” Iris said slowly. “Having seen each other naked will have no effect on your friendship.”

“People do it all the time,” she said airily. “Friends with benefits.”

“What about having a baby together?”

“Co-parents. It doesn’t have to be complicated.”

“No, but it sure could get complicated easily.”

“Well, it’s not going to,” Caitlin said firmly. “We talked about it. We agreed.”

“That you’re going to stay friends just like always.”

She turned in her chair to look Iris in the eye. “I hear what you’re saying. Some things are going to change. Babies change things. But Cisco and I are going to stay friends. We’ve held onto each other through a lot of crazy things. There’s no reason to think we can’t do this.”

“Yeah,” Iris acknowledged. “Yeah, that’s true. Look, all I’m saying is, if you do feel things changing between you, I’m here, okay? I’ve sort of been through it.”

“I appreciate that, I do," Caitlin said. "But nothing’s going to change with us."

* * *

The next week was certifiably crazy, so much so that Cisco and Caitlin barely got the chance to say hello, much less discuss whether she currently had an egg knocking around her uterus. (If she heard him say that, she would have snippily corrected him that it was knocking around her fallopian tubes first, and honestly sometimes Caitlin had no idea about the importance of a well-turned phrase.) 

He had wondered how it would be, between them. Did she want him to act like a boyfriend? Even though they weren’t actually dating. 

But she acted normal, just as she always had, and he followed her lead. The word friends came first in that phrase, after all. So they carried on like they had, even if sometimes he looked up and found her looking at his hands, or his butt, or some other body part that made her blush and look away when he caught her eye. 

Nice to know he’d made an impression.

Especially since he couldn’t stop himself from staring at the curve of her neck, at the little flash of skin between her pants and her shirt when she bent down, at her funny precise hand gestures when she talked because he remembered what it was like, having her hands all over him. Goddamn. 

He knew from the way Iris glanced between them that Caitlin had told her. He wondered if she would mention it to Barry. If she had, the Flash didn’t let on. He was hyper-focused as usual on the latest villain, finding him, stopping him. He didn’t really seem to have the time for bro talk, even if Cisco knew what he would say.

_Hey so heads-up, Caitlin and I are working on a little “project” together . . ._

_Guess who’s getting laid?_

_Barry, there’s going to be an addition to the Star Labs family. Now you’re still our favorite -_

Yeah, no.

Eight days (not that he was counting) after the morning he’d woken up in her bed, she came into his lab. “Hey,” she said.

He was halfway under a machine, scowling up at its guts, trying to diagnose the problem. “Hey,” he said distractedly. “What’s up?”

A little silence, and then she said, “Have you looked at your phone today?”

“Forgot to charge it last night,” he said absently. “Went dead. Plugged it in when I got here.” And had immediately doven headfirst into this ailing machine. They’d put a guy in Iron Heights yesterday and it was what he thought of as a clean-up day, catching up on things that had gone ignored while they were all in hot pursuit.

He wondered why she was asking. Had she texted him someth - 

Oh.

He rolled out from under the machine and sat up. “Are you - “ He gestured at her midsection.

“Pretty soon,” she said. “Within the next few days. So the time is now, really.”

“Oh,” he said. “Right now? Cuz I got a futon - “ He waved over his shoulder.

She went pink to her hairline. “Cisco! We’re at work.”

“Relax, I was kidding.” He tilted his head. “Unless you’d be into that - “

Her color deepened to beet-red, and he said, “No, no, kidding, I swear. So, tonight?”

“I was thinking maybe you could come over for dinner.”

“I can do that. Barring mayhem, of course.”

“Of course,” she said, getting up and smoothing her skirt down. It was very short, and he was right at thigh level, so he could see the little mole about six inches above her left kneecap. He wanted to lick it.

_Down boy,_ he thought. _Save it for tonight._ “Cool,” he said. “See you tonight, then. Should I bring anything?”

She smiled, soft and slow. “Just yourself,” she said.

“Okay,” he said, watching her go. “Yeah. I can do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so a note about a story thread that started in this chapter. I know how it seems but I'd picked the Cicada as Barry's nemesis in this story before the show announced that he was going to be their Season 5 Big Bad. No, really, I did! So I developed that thread loosely based on what I found in the DC wiki, which is probably different from the way that the show plans to develop it. Just in case you're wondering why it's not the same as the show. Just one of the ways this is a canon divergent story.


	7. Chapter 7

Maybe God was real, because Cisco was certainly praying that nothing would happen to keep them at Star Labs that night. But by five-forty-five that night, he was standing in front of her door, wondering if he’d gone overboard by going home to brush his hair, change his shirt, shave, change his shirt again, and then look for a bottle of wine or something, before remembering that she’d said not to bring anything. Then change his shirt again. 

(Third time was the charm, this shirt was definitely peak sexy. Definitely. Probably. Shit. Maybe not?)

He knocked before he could get too far into his own head, and she answered it right away, crinkling her eyebrows at him. “Why didn’t you come in? You usually come in.”

He did; there was practically a landing spot in her foyer where he always breached in. He shrugged, feeling his face heat. “I don’t know. Seemed a little . . . “ He shrugged again. “You know?”

By the look on her face, she didn’t, but she stepped back and let him come in, shutting the door behind him. He turned to face her. 

She looked pretty. She always looked pretty, but she looked extra pretty right now, like she’d brushed her hair and redone her makeup after work, and she’d definitely changed. The dress was shiny and silky, draped low over her breasts. All those details made his stomach go warm. 

If he’d gone overboard, she had too.

She crossed her arms, but not in a belligerent way. More like she wanted something to do with her hands and couldn’t think what. “Hi,” she said after a moment.

“Hi,” he said softly.

“I like your shirt,” she said.

“This old thing?”

She giggled a little.

Maybe it was the giggle. Or maybe it was the way she looked at him, a way she hadn’t really looked at him all week at Star Labs, except in stolen moments. A way that was much more “benefits” than “friends.”

He took a quick step forward, putting his hands on her waist and leaning in to kiss her. She reacted instantly, reaching up to put her hands in his hair, opening her mouth under his. Her mouth was hot and sweet and things went _boom_ and _pop_ and _pazow_ in his brain because he remembered the other night.

He crowded her back against the door, pressing their bodies together chest to knees. She was soft and curvy against him, and his hands skimmed down her hips and clenched in the silky material of her dress. 

He broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against hers, panting for breath. Jesus. He was a goat. “Should I stop?” he breathed into the hot, warm space between their mouths.

“No,” she moaned, fingers tightening in his hair. “God, no, don’t you dare stop -”

His mouth covered hers again.

Some time later,  they rested against each other, panting and gasping for air. Her skirt was up around her waist, his pants were on the floor, and he was feeling _really good._

“I may have been thinking about that a lot this week,” he admitted, nuzzling her hairline.

“You too?”

He leaned back to grin at her. “Have you?”

She toyed with one of his curls, wrapping it around her finger and letting go. “Maybe.”

He kissed her nose. “Don’t maybe me until after I've got my pants back on.”

She went to kiss his lips, but paused with her mouth an inch away. “Do you smell that?”

“My cologne?”

“No - “ She gave him a little shove and he pulled away, mourning a little as they parted. She pushed her dress down and wiggled around him to rush to the kitchen. Cisco paused long enough to pull his pants up, then followed her to where she was switching off the stove under a smoking saucepan, her face tragic.

“Was that dinner?” 

“Yes,” she groaned, shifting the saucepan to the back of the stove and groping around for the lid.

Cisco, survivor of many a scorched pan, said confidently, “It’ll clean off. I’ve got a trick.”

“I know, you’ve shared it,” she said, putting a lid over the scorched contents to contain the smell while it cooled. “But that was going to be delicious.”

He put his arms around her waist and kissed her under her ear. “So’s the Chinese I’m about to order. Unless you prefer pizza?”

She leaned back into him. “Chinese,” she said. “Lots of it.” She gave him a coy look over her shoulder. “We need to keep up our strength.”

* * *

Cisco ambled through the cortex, waving to Barry. “I’m outta here,” he said.

He looked up. “Again? You’ve left early every night this week.”

Cisco laughed. “Early? It’s six-thirty. Normal people are already home eating dinner by now.”

“We’re not exactly normal. What’s up, man?”

Cisco paused. His buddy looked genuinely puzzled. “Iris didn’t tell you? What, uh, what Caitlin and I are doing together?”

“She said you were working on some kind of project together. If you guys are planning a party for her, I’ve already got reservations at her favorite restaurant on her birthday, so it’ll have to be a different day.”

“Right,” Cisco said. “That is soon. No, nothing to do with that.” Although now he was going to have to figure out what to get her. “No, this is something else.”

Barry cocked his head, looking confused.

Cisco debated on whether to get into Caitlin’s ticking time-bomb ovaries and everything, and decided against it. “Caitlin’s decided to have a baby,” he said. “And I’m helping her.”

“A baby,” Barry said. “Really? Caitlin?”

“Yep."

“That's good," Barry said. "Good for her." He looked away, with something like guilt in his face. "She should have a baby if she wants one."

“And I’m helping,” Cisco said again, wondering if he would have to add “if you know what I mean,” and a leer before Barry would figure it out.

“That’s nice of you,” Barry said, clearing his throat and looking back at some article he was speed-reading. “Looking into sperm banks and stuff?”

Cisco just looked at him.

“Oh,” Barry said, the penny dropping hard. “Oh! Whoa. Really? You guys are going to have a baby together?”

“Yep. And right now is her, like, fertile time. So that’s why we’ve both been taking off so early this week.”

Barry stared at him like he was a foreign language that needed decoding. “So, are you. . . . dating or something?”

“No, we’re still just friends. But friends who are going to have a baby together.”

“Oh,” Barry said, still sounding puzzled. “So Caitlin is going to have a baby, and you’ll be . . . ?”

“The baby’s dad, of course. I’m not going to knock her up and consider it done, you know. I’ll be around.” As long as he could. Cisco swallowed, hoping the dark thought didn’t show on his face.

“That’s cool. Yeah. Yeah.” Barry looked away in a not-actually-very-cool-at-all way.

“What?” Cisco said. “Go on, say it.”

“I just, uh. Have you thought about this? Like, really thought about it?”

“No,” Cisco said sarcastically, “I’ve given no thought whatsoever to the ramifications of bringing a new life into this incredibly fucked-up world of ours.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Yeah. I thought about it. Hard. And I want to do this. Not just because Caitlin asked, either. Because I want to.”

“You didn’t talk to me.”

_Would you have listened?_ Cisco thought, and bit his tongue. That was unfair. Barry cared about them, he knew that. He just . . . wasn’t very good about showing it sometimes, especially when he was wrapped up in Flash business. So he just said, “You were busy. That meta last week . . . And this new guy, murdering people that you’ve saved.”

“Still. Kinda wish you’d said something.”

“What is it? You think Caitlin shouldn’t have a baby, with the whole Killer Frost thing and all? Now that we know specific powers get passed down.”

Barry shrugged. “Oh, no, that’s okay. We know how to control Killer Frost, even if it does get passed down. And like I said, if Caitlin wants a baby, she should get to have one. But you’re different. You’ve got plenty of time, man. You don’t need to worry about it.”

Cisco swallowed hard. “It’s not like that,” he lied. “Yeah, I don’t have the same biological clock she does, but I kind of want to be a dad already. You know?” Please, please let him get to be a dad for a little while. “I mean, I know you don’t want to, right now. But someday, aren’t you looking forward to it?”

“Of course I am. Someday. With Iris. The woman I love.”

Cisco blinked a few times. “What does that mean?”

“I’m just saying, if  you have a kid with Caitlin, won’t it be kind of weird when you fall in love with someone and you want to start your real family?”

For a moment Cisco couldn't speak. There were so many things about what Barry had just said that he couldn't begin to pick just one out to start with. Finally he settled on a flat “no.”

Barry winced. "I didn't mean it like that."

"How then? How would this baby not be my real family? Caitlin's already family, and I just told you I'm all in for the dad thing."

"Sure, now. But, later," Barry said. "You'll have other kids with whoever you marry, but this kid will always be sort of off to one side."

"In the attic? Singing to the mice while they scrub the floors?"

"No! God, man, I'm - I'm not doing this very well."

"Ya think?"

Barry rubbed his eyes. He looked around and then ducked his head. "Look. Don't you ever, ever tell Joe this. Or Iris."

"What?"

"They're my family, and I know Joe loves me, but . . . it's not the same. It was never the same."

Cisco felt his anger waver and fall to ash. It was a decent point, and if not for his secret, it was one that might have factored in. He probably still would have said yes, but maybe not so fast. "It's not going to be like that," he said. 

"You don't know what it's going to be like. Caitlin never planned to lose Ronnie. She would have had a baby already. With him. Except - "

"A lot of things changed," Cisco said. "There's a lot of excepts in our lives, since the accelerator exploded. None of us can predict exactly what'll happen. I just know this is right. That I'll love this baby. That Caitlin will love this baby. That they'll be part of our family." He emphasized our to let Barry know he wasn't just talking about him and Caitlin, but everyone in their weird, fluid amoeba of a Star Labs family. "Everything else will just . . . it'll happen however it happens."

Barry didn't look one hundred percent convinced. But he nodded. "Yeah."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

Cisco checked his pockets. Okay, he had everything. "I'm going to get going."

"Hey, man?"

"Yeah."

"I think you'll be a good dad."

It made his eyes burn for a split second, and he looked away. "And Caitlin will be a great mom. And you'll be a fab uncle, and Iris will be an awesome auntie, and . . . "

"Okay, okay!" Barry said laughing. "Go. Make a baby."

Cisco grinned at him, relaxing into their usual banter. "Hot deets later?"

"Oh my god, no, not about Caitlin," Barry said, flinching. "She's like my sister."

Cisco opened his mouth.

"If the words _foster sister_ cross your lips," Barry warned, "I will tie your tongue around your head before you close them."

"Foster sister what?" Iris asked, coming in with a file folder.

"Barry was just telling me, with no hint of irony, why he doesn't want any sexy stories about Caitlin and me," Cisco said. 

"Too bad, babe," Iris said, leaning over Barry’s shoulder and giving him a kiss. "Because they're quite hot."

"What?" Cisco said, feeling himself blush. "What’s hot? Wait, what has Caitlin told you?"

"Girl talk is classified," Iris said, smirking at him.

"Was it good? It was good, right?"

"I can neither confirm nor deny. But do that thing with the tongue again. It got great reviews."

"La la la," Barry sang. "I can't hear anything. La la la."

"I'm going," Cisco decided, pulling a breach open. "I'm going right now."

* * *

Barry was a little weird with him over the next day or two, but he didn’t say anything when Cisco left early again the next day, and even better, he didn’t say anything to Caitlin. At least, Caitlin didn’t let on if he had. 

On Thursday, there was a bank robbery that Vibe and the Flash both had to turn up for, and weirdness aside, they fought alongside each other like they always had. They returned to Star Labs sweaty and triumphant, and in Cisco’s case, more than slightly sore. Caitlin was cleaning the scrapes on his forehead while he held an ice pack to his ribs, which had taken a punch that still had him a little breathless. “You’re sure nothing cracked?”

“I’m sure,” she said. “It’s just a bruise.”

He said, “Just?” with a groan.

She smiled at him. “Take some painkillers tonight and if it doesn’t subside overnight, or it gets worse, I’ll wrap your ribs. But I think you’ll be fine.”

“Speaking of tonight,” he said in an undertone, glancing around for Barry. But Mr. I-Heal-Almost-As-Fast-as-I-Run was off peeling out of his suit. “I’m sorry, the spirit is willing but the flesh is worn out. I don’t think I’m up for anything but staggering home and faceplanting into my own bed.”

“It’s okay,” she said, the smile fading. “I’m not ovulating anymore.”

“Oh,” he said, almost dropping the ice pack. “You - you’re not?”

She shook her head. “I tested this morning.”

His heart jumped into his throat. “You took a pregnancy test?”

“No,” she said. “Even if I am pregnant, it wouldn’t show up on a test for another week. No, it’s the ovulation tests I’ve been taking. My fertile window is over.”

“Okay,” he said. “So what now?”

“We wait,” she said, stripping off her gloves. “And in a few days, I’ll take a test. And we’ll know.”

“Right,” he said, lifting the ice pack to check his side. “We’ll know.”

* * *

It felt strange to go to his own house every night, alone. In just a week, he’d gotten really used to going over to Caitlin’s after work, or having her come over to his place. They would talk about the day while eating dinner, and then have sex at least once or twice before falling asleep together. Depending on how the next morning went, sometimes they would indulge in quick morning sex too before he went back to his place to shower and change, or opened a breach for her to take back to her place.

_Come on,_ he told himself, testing out a couple of avocados for ripeness at the grocery store. _It’s just that it was the first week and the sex was really good. You would have gotten tired of spending all that time together soon enough. Probably it’s better this way. You’re doing the friends with benefits things. Better to take a step back before you get really sick of each other._

He drifted from the produce section over to the fish counter, checking out the price on salmon. He generally thought salmon was nasty as shit, but it had been on the list when he’d googled “food fertility.” He frowned at the slimy orange fish on the bed of ice, wondering it would work after she was done ovulating or what. Or if he had to eat it, too.

Yuck.

“Can I help you, sir?” the fish counter lady said.

He waved a little. “Nope. I’m good. Hey, where’s the baby aisle at?” 

* * *

Caitlin’s phone buzzed on her hip, interrupting the podcast she was listening to. She looked at it and saw a text from Cisco. _What u doing_

She paused her show and typed back, **Lying on my back with my legs in the air, thinking fertile thoughts**

The three dots appeared and reappeared a couple of times before he said, _Really??_

She laughed and finished clipping a skirt to a hanger. **No! That’s a myth**

**I’m doing laundry**

_Well, I went grocery shopping_

_Look at us, doing boring parent things already_

_we don’t even know if you’re pregnant_

**Excuse you, I do laundry on every day I have off**

_Like I said_

She gave a little snort. 

_OMGGGGGGGG_

**What?**

_I stopped at my comix shop on the way home_

_look at this shizz_

He texted her a picture of a baby bib with a happy, cartoony Chewbacca.

She pressed her hand to her heart. **That’s adorable**

_Awesome right?_

**Truly nerd culture has come into the mainstream**

_More like nerds are finally getting laid_

_I’m gonna get it_

**We don’t even know if I'm pregnant!**

_What, it’s not like it’s gonna spoil_

_Imma get it_

She smiled at her phone and started to type in, **Bring it over so I can see.** Then she paused and erased it. He probably had things to do today, just like she did. They’d spent so much time together in the past week that she was behind on all her errands and regular chores. They shouldn't hang out so much that they started to get sick of each other. **Sounds great,** she said instead.

* * *

At Star Labs, Cisco tried not to stare at Caitlin, wondering if she was glowing or just sweaty in the sudden autumn heat wave swamping Central City. Mostly he succeeded. But he did keep count of the days, because she’d said a week and knowing her, it would be a week exactly. Which was why it was a surprise when he breached in one morning and found Caitlin waiting for him in his lab. "There you are!” she said. “Where have you been?"

"Hi," he said. "Good morning. Nice to see you too. Burrito?" He held up the bag of breakfast burritos that he'd stopped for.

"No," she said. "Wait. Yes. I'd love one. But not yet."

He raised his brows at her. "What's going on?"

"I'm going to do the test. I was waiting for you."

"Whoa! The test? You mean, the test? I thought tomorrow - “

"Today’s soon enough. Come on!" She grabbed his hand and dragged him out the door and to her lab. 

He set the burritos aside on one of her counters. His stomach had been growling for one ever since he'd picked them up, but now it was churning so hard, he didn't think he could eat a bite. "What do I need to do?"

She was already prepping her arm. "Can you administer the blood draw?"

"Sure. Yep. On it."

The whole familiar process of drawing the blood, centrifuging, and setting it up seemed to calm Caitlin down. Not completely. She was still tense as she set the timer for the incubation of the sample. "Okay," she said, voice shaking. "Now, we wait."

"Tell me again why you're not peeing on a stick?" It would be faster.

"I have the equipment and the training to do a blood test," she said. "Urine tests aren't as sensitive and we could get a false negative, and I would run this test anyway if it came up positive. Might as skip that step."

"Right," he said. "Makes sense."

She drummed her fingers on her desk. "It's unlikely that I've conceived already," she added.

"Yeah," he said. "Right. I mean, what are the stats again?"

"For my age group, fifteen to twenty percent."

"Wow. That's, like, one in five. Maybe one in six."

"Yeah, pretty small. So we shouldn't be surprised if I'm not -"

Her computer beeped and she lunged for her mouse. A list of incomprehensible gibberish came up and she scanned down it. She sagged.

Cisco's heart plopped into his stomach. "No?"

She shook her head. "No evidence of hcG." She caught his eye and said, "Pregnancy hormone."

"Maybe it's too soon," he suggested.

"We already waited a week," she said, closing the file. "But I'll do another one in a couple of days. Just to be sure."

"Sure," he said. "That sounds reasonable."

She gave him a bright smile. "Next month!" she said.

"Right, sure. So, you'll ovulate again in - what, a couple of weeks?"

She waved her hand a little. "More or less. Remember, I'm - "

"Irregular," he finished. "Yeah."

"I wasn't expecting to conceive right away anyway," she mumbled.

"Sure," he said. "It's unlikely." Although Joe and Cecile had managed it without even trying. He pushed the thought away. "Next month. Plenty of time."

"Of course," she said.

Barry's voice came over the loudspeaker. "Hey, guys, where are you?"

Cisco hit the button to respond. "We're both in Caitlin's lab."

"Be right there," Caitlin added, hopping to her feet and heading for the door.

On his way out, Cisco nabbed the bag of  burritos. He wasn't hungry anymore, but you could always count on Barry to vacuum up leftover food.


	8. Chapter 8

Her period came three days after the failed pregnancy test. _Don’t think of it like that,_ she scolded herself, curled on the couch with a heating pad pressed to her back. _You fail math tests, not pregnancy tests. You’re down because of hormone fluctuations, and the way your back is tied into knots and your skin feels all hot and stretched and you want chocolate, anything chocolate. That’s why you feel crappy._

And because she wasn’t pregnant.

She sighed and snuggled into the couch, tossing her tablet aside halfway through an article on the latest research in cryogenics. She was always like this when she didn’t immediately succeed at something. Cisco said it was the gifted kid thing. He got that way too, sometimes. After a lifetime of achieving things right off the bat, faster than all the other kids in your class, it felt like a giant insult when you didn’t get it right on the first try. 

Conception wasn’t like that, of course. She and Cisco had done everything they could. A lot of times. She felt her face warm, even though she was alone, and pressed it into the couch cushion, smiling. 

She reached out for her phone and found herself opening the text app, looking at the last conversation she’d had with Cisco. He’d bought that dumb, adorable Chewbacca baby bib. She wondered where he’d put it away. She’d impulsively bought a sippy cup with blue and pink bubbles all over it, and that was stashed away in her closet. 

He’d seemed disappointed, but fine. Right, of course. Just like she was fine. They’d smiled and reassured each other. Next month!

_Right,_ she told herself. _Next month._

She just . . . wished he was here right now.

She made a face at herself, put her phone on the coffee table, and focused on the pros and cons of chocolate pudding. On the one hand, she would have chocolate pudding. On the other hand, she would have to get up off the couch and make it.

Her phone buzzed, and she reached for it again.

_Wanna come over?_

She stared at it for a moment. She kind of did want to see him, but just like chocolate pudding, it would involve her getting off the couch. Also tucking away her low mood to participate in whatever Cisco had planned. She replied, **I’m not feeling well. I’d rather stay home**

Her phone rang. Without preamble, Cisco said, “What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

“No,” she said. “It’s, um. It’s my period.”

“. . . Oh,” he said. 

“Mmmm.”

After a moment, he said, “I can come over there if you want company. I was just going to check out the pilot of that show I was talking about. You’ve got Hulu.”

She blinked in surprise. Cisco had always immediately given her a rain check when she mentioned her period. “Wait, do you mean the reboot?”

“That’s the one.”

“It looks terrible.” He’d showed her the trailer.

“I know,” he said with a smile in his voice. “I have very low hopes. What do you say? I’ll bring ice cream, we’ll MST3K our hearts out? If you’re not up for it tonight, we can do it another time. The miracle of streaming.”

She chewed her lip. Her cramps chewed at her spine. “What kind of ice cream?”

“Lessee, ya gotcher chocolate cherry, your Moose Tracks, your peanut butter cup . . . “

“Yes,” she said.

“All of them?”

“Well, you can -”

“I’ll bring them all,” he said.

* * *

The show really was deeply terrible, but watching it and making fun of it perked Caitlin up, to Cisco’s relief. She’d been out of it all day, but as she ate ice cream and laughed at his mockery, and even threw in a few comments of her own, the brightness came back to her eyes.

When he got up to go, she got up, too, and gave him a hug. She’d hugged him many times over the years, but this time, the hug brought back memories of more recent intimacies. He’d missed her, which was dumb, because they saw each other literally every day. He realized that they’d been holding each other for longer than a normal hug, and eased back. 

She let go. Was that regret in her eyes?

“I want to kiss you,” he said impulsively. “Can I? Just a kiss.”

She smiled at him and said, “Yes,” and he pulled her close again.

Their kisses last week had always been a preamble to sex. This time, without conception on their minds, he just kissed her, slow and soft. Her fingers moved in his hair and she sighed when he ran his hands down her back. He wanted to fall into it. He wanted to kiss her all night, their hands drifting across skin, legs tangling, hearts beating next to each other.

They didn’t kiss all night, but they did kiss for a long time before she let him go. She looked soft and flushed, her eyes tender as she smoothed his hair down. She’d done that a lot last week, too, in bed. Touching it and finger-combing it and playing with it, like she was taking advantage now that she had permission. “Thanks for coming over,” she said.

“No problem. Feel better.”

“I’m sure I will. The first day’s always the worst.”

“See you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow.”

* * *

The next week, on his way out the door, she stopped him and said, “Is there another episode of that show?”

“Yeah!” he said eagerly. “You want to come over and make fun of it again?”

“I’d love to.”

“You still got ice cream left over?” He’d left the three or four cartons in her freezer last week.

“Let’s do real food this time. What about Italian?”

“Bring it,” he said, feeling giddy. Sort of like a date. 

Not a date. They did this all the time, hanging out together, eating takeout. This was regular them stuff. They hadn’t kissed again since he’d gone to her place last week, but they had done a slushee run the other day and texted all of one evening, and just other regular Cisco and Caitlin things. So this was one more.

But it still felt a little like a date.

They ate eggplant parmesan - “You pulled a fast one, _eggplant_ ,” Cisco said, and she’d said, “It’s deep fried and slathered in cheese, it’s not healthy!” - and drank beer and made fun of the show, which somehow managed to be worse in the second episode. By the time the credits rolled, she was cuddled up against him, giggly and soft. When she reached up to touch his cheek, silently asking permission, he responded eagerly.

They made out for several minutes before her hands tugged at his shirt and found their way underneath, resting soft and cool against his stomach. He pulled away and said, “Are you ovulating?” which wasn’t something he’d ever, ever said on a date before, but this was a brave new world.

She shook her head. “No, I just want to.” She looked shy. “If that’s okay with you.”

“Very,” he said. “Very okay. So much okay.”

She smiled at him and they went back to kissing.

Later, in his bed, he looked over at her. She was almost asleep, snuggled up on her side the way she did. He reached out and ran his hand over her hip through the covers, and she sighed.

“Friends with benefits,” he murmured, and tugged the blanket up over her shoulder before shutting his eyes and letting himself fall asleep with her breathing next to him.

* * *

Monitoring her fertility was dull and annoying, but Caitlin gritted her teeth and kept at it. She was rewarded on the morning she could text Cisco and tell him that the window was about to open again. He texted back immediately this time - _YESSS should I come over?_

She pressed her hand to her mouth, laughing into her palm. **Tonight is soon enough**

**We have to get to work**

_I say we call in sick_

_I can already feel this terrible cough starting up_

_Cough cough_

**Iris will see right through that, and we have things to do**

_Okay FINE_ But he added an eggplant emoji and she laughed again. 

She might have known that it wouldn’t be that  easy. Right after lunch, an alert came through the system and just like that, it was one of their busiest days in the past month.  

“Favor?” Iris asked several hours later.

“Mmm?” Caitlin looked up from arranging her first-aid supplies, focusing on burn ointments and gauze - today’s meta had a way of burning things from several feet away that they had been working to counteract. She’d spent a good portion of the day low-key wishing she still had access to her frostier side, because it would have made everything so much easier. “What?”

Iris looked exhausted. “Can I steal the bed for a catnap? I’m crashing hard.”

“Oh, sure, go ahead. What’s our timeframe on the trap?”

“An hour at least,” Iris said, unzipping her cute boots and kicking them off. “Owwww.”

“Something wrong?” Caitlin got up, already pulling the x-ray machine out in case she needed to check for a break in the bone.

“No, I’m fine.” Iris nudged one of the boots so it fell over on its side. “These are new.”

Caitlin winced in sympathy. There was no pain quite like an unbroken-in pair of shoes, especially on a day where you were on your feet for several hours. “Where are the guys? Are they starting to snark at each other yet?”

Iris pulled the blankets over herself and burrowed into the pillow. “Barry’s practicing with a dummy in the speed lab and Cisco’s fine-tuning the temperature controls on the suits in his workshop.” 

Meaning they were as wired up as Caitlin, she concluded. She went over to dim the lights.

“You don’t have to do tha-a-a-at,” Iris yawned. “Keep working, it’s fine.”

“I should take a break, too,” Caitlin said. “This is the third time I’ve rearranged my supplies.” She shut the door behind her and went to make some coffee.

With a mug in either hand, she went downstairs to Cisco’s workshop. Shouldering the door open, she said, “Coffee break?”

He looked up, pushing his goggles up on his head. “Please.”

She handed one of the mugs - the one with extra cream and extra sugar - over to him and pulled up a rolling chair. He took a deep gulp, paused, and swallowed.

She waited for him to make fun of her coffee - just because she didn’t drink it so strong it crunched - but instead he said, “So what do you think? Any chance we’ll be out of here before midnight?”

“If everything goes absolutely perfectly,” she said. “Maybe.”

He sighed. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.” He swirled his coffee and looked her up and down. She’d picked out a rather tight skirt and one of her favorite sweaters, which clung lovingly to her breasts. His hair was extra-shiny, and he’d rolled his shirt sleeves up in a way that showcased his very nice forearms. 

They’d traded a lot of flirty looks before that alert had come in. 

He sighed. “Really wish this dude hadn’t turned up until next week.” 

She gave him a smile. “It’s okay. We’ll catch him tonight, and we’ve got three more days, maybe four. Tomorrow’s soon enough.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Really?”

She looked down into her coffee. “Why couldn’t this have happened yesterday?” she mourned. 

He laughed, then drank about a quarter of his cup at once. “You know, I’m not just annoyed because we lost out on hot sex tonight.”

“That’s reason enough,” she said, feeling her cheeks warm.  

“Yeah, but I had a plan.”

She raised her brows at him. “You?”

“There’s two steaks in my fridge,” he said. “Marinating, ready for the broiler. Got some potatoes. Wasn’t really sure what to do with those. Maybe just bake ‘em, maybe slice them up or stuff ‘em with cheese. It depended on how we felt.” He swirled the coffee in his cup. “A salad, because I’m told green things are good for you.”

“That sounds delicious, Cisco.”

He cocked his head and grinned at her. “Doesn’t it? Some cheesecake for dessert and a bottle of red to split.”

“Cheesecake, even? When did you do all this?”

“I breached home when I was out getting lunch.”

“I thought it took you a long time.” She sagged with regret. “That sounds like it would have been a lovely meal.”

“Yep. Woulda been.”

She reached out and touched his face. “Hey. The steaks will still be okay tomorrow.”

“And if we’re still handling this in two or three days?”

She shrugged. “Then you buy two more steaks.”

“Whoa, hey, easy with my money there.”

She giggled. “The point is, you’re getting credit for the thought right now. Lots of credit.” She leaned forward and touched her lips to his.

It started out light and soft, a kiss of thanks. He put his hand on her shoulder and held her still while he kissed her back, a little harder. She responded, sliding her arms around his neck. Their chairs rolled closer together, bumping armrests as they kissed hungrily.

He ended the kiss with a soft gasp for air and rested his forehead against hers, panting softly. She tried to catch her breath, but she could smell him, his soap and shampoo and the scent of his skin. One of his hands had found its way just under her shirt, and sat warm and rough against her bottom ribs. Her blood thumped hotly in all her pulse points.

His thumb moved softly against her skin. “So,” he said softly. “Quickie?”

She pulled away and he looked surprised and dismayed for a moment. Then she shut his lab door, threw the lock, and came back to take his hand. Feeling very naughty and very sexy, she asked, “Have you still got that futon in the other room?”

* * *

After the night they’d all had to stay late to catch the heat meta, she and Cisco got a full, miraculous day off, and spent it together. She suspected Iris had something to do with that. Her friend had smirked at them as they’d come into the cortex, Cisco all suited up and ready to go. Caitlin hadn’t been able to figure out why until the Flash and Vibe had left to spring their trap. Iris had muted the mikes and turned to her to say, “By the way, your coffee break missed a button.”

Caitlin suspected she was still red in the face for a good half an hour.

The pregnancy test she took two weeks later came up negative again. Caitlin found that she wasn’t as down about it this time. Maybe being disappointed once had prepared her. 

Cisco was more disappointed than she was, it seemed. It took him a day and a half to shake it off, but when she said, “We have time, you know,” he smiled at her and said, “Yeah, all the time in the world. Hey, you want to see that new alien movie with me? Have you seen the ads?”

She looked at him skeptically and said, “On a scale from ET to chest-burster, what kind of aliens are we talking?” But she’d gone with him anyway and watched most of it through her fingers, muttering imprecations at him. He’d made up for it by kissing her in the parking lot until they were both weak in the knees.

They fell into a pattern of spending more time together than they had since the first year that Barry was the Flash. They watched their still-terrible show, cooked together, went to another movie - her pick this time - and spent hours talking and laughing with each other. On Halloween, he came over and helped her pass out candy. 

And they slept together. 

Not as much or as energetically as they did when she was ovulating, but at least once a week they would end up in bed, happy and giggling, or rough and hungry, or just enjoying each other.

It was fun, she thought happily. For all her optimistic words to him, she’d been worried that their friendship would suffer with the addition of sex. But it really was like she’d said - they already had the fun and companionship, and their sexual compatibility didn’t show any signs of waning. It was the best she could have hoped for.

But Cisco just seemed to get more disappointed with every week that passed without her getting pregnant. “It’ll _happen_ ,” she told him after the third negative pregnancy test in the middle of November. “It’s fine, Cisco, really.”

One day after Cisco tangled with an especially gnarly meta and Catiline had to put three stitches in his shoulder, Iris pulled her aside. “Remember how I said I was here for you?”

“Yes,” Caitlin said. “He’ll be all right.”

“It’s not him I’m worried about,” Iris said. “I saw your face when he got hurt. Are you sure you’re not falling for him?”

“No,” Caitlin said, and from the way Iris looked at her, she didn’t believe her. 

She wasn’t entirely sure she believed herself.

She decided not to think about it.


	9. Chapter 9

The oven timer went off, and Caitlin lunged for it before the noise could wake Cisco up. A waft of luscious-smelling air billowed out of the oven as she pulled the last pie out and set it on the cooling rack.

They were at his place. Her oven had crapped out on her on the precise night she was making pies for Thanksgiving at the West-Allen loft. Cisco had taken a look, but he’d said, “I don’t know if I can fix this in time for all your pastry needs. C’mon, you can use mine.” He’d held a breach between their places open long enough for her to go back and forth three times, transporting all the ingredients for five pies. You didn’t skimp on pies when you were going to Thanksgiving with Barry Allen.

Caitlin was impressed at the longevity of the breach, and said so. “How long have you been able to hold a breach open like that?”

“Awhile,” he said, dropping his arm and letting the breach suck itself closed. “It’s actually easier than opening one over and over again.”

She thought it had worn him out though, because halfway through third pie, she’d looked over to see him stretched out on his couch, dead to the world. She’d gone to switch off the TV, but he grunted and stirred when Kirk and Spock went silent, so she’d turned it back on and pulled his couch blanket over him, letting him sleep.

The movie had ended some time ago, but he slept on as she finished up her baking and washing the dishes. It was late enough that she was just considering whether to go put on a set of the pajamas in the drawer he’d set aside for her and crawling into his bed, when she heard him say her name.

She turned with a smile. “Oh, you’re awake, you - “

“Cai’lin,” he mumbled again.

She went to the couch. He was definitely still asleep, but squirming, tossing his head on the throw pillow. His face was twisted in some expression she couldn’t read. “Cai’lin,” he muttered.“Cai’lin - tell me - please - how - “

“Cisco!” she said, shaking his shoulder.

“Bzplugh,” he said, eyes popping open. “Wha - Caitlin?”

“You were dreaming,” she said, sitting down on the couch next to him. “What about?”

He scrubbed his hand over his face. “Uh. I don’t remember.”

She didn’t believe him. “Are you sure? It looked bad.”

“Uh.” He shook his head, blinking, like he was coming out of deep water. “No, it was nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. Cisco, is something bother -”

“It was Reverb.”

It took her a moment to remember who he was talking about, and then she sat back, surprised. “Reverb? From Earth-2? Really?”

“He wasn’t a good guy,” Cisco said. “I mean. That can screw with you, seeing your own face on a - “

“On a villain,” she finished.

“Yeah,” he said, pushing himself up to a sitting position. “You’d know.”

It was true that she’d dreamed constantly of Earth-2’s Killer Frost in the first days of her powers coming in. The sneering blue-painted mouth, the glowing contemptuous eyes, the mocking laugh.

The moment that Zoom had killed her.

But that had been so long ago. Her feelings about her colder side had changed, and the last time she’d seen her own Frost in a mirror, she had given her a crooked smile and said, _you worry too much Caity_ and gone off to fight DeVoe. Now when she thought of Frost, it was mostly with regret and a longing to get her back again.

Clearly Cisco didn’t feel the same way about Reverb.

“Reverb is dead, though,” she said. “Right? You told me Zoom killed him.”

“That one,” he said, finger-combing his hair off his face. “The one on Earth-2. I haven’t gone out looking or anything, but I bet there’s a non-zero number of my doppelgangers that chose the Reverb route rather than the Vibe one. Power corrupts.”

“It hasn’t corrupted you,” she said.

“It wanted to.”

“Are you worried about that?”

“No,” he said quickly. When she kept looking at him, he said it more firmly. “No, I’m not obsessing over it. Haven’t for a long time. Meeting other breachers showed me my powers aren’t a one-way street to Villainsville. It just hung around my subconscious. Leaked into my sleep, like the asshole he was.”

She frowned at him. “Why were you saying my name?” Was he thinking about Killer Frost? About how she’d turned to Savitar’s side? Maybe he thought that her influence might turn their baby evil. Her stomach curled in on itself.

“Was I?” he said. “I don’t really remember all the details. You know how dreams are. Maybe you turned up.”

Caitlin wasn’t completely satisfied with that, but he shook his head again. “It was just a dream. I’m fine. Thanks for waking me up. Pies all done?”

“Mmhm,” she said, getting up so he could kick the blanket away and get off the couch.

“Oooo,” he said, going to the cooling racks and taking deep sniffs. “Damn. What are these again?”

She pointed at each pie in turn. “Chocolate peanut butter, apple, peach, pumpkin, and strawberry rhubarb. Don’t make that face. Joe likes it, and so do I.”

He wrinkled his nose at the strawberry rhubarb, which he always said was a grandpa pie. “There’s six here,” he said.

“That one’s for you.” She indicated the last and warmest pie. “It’s apple-peach.”

“For me?”

“I had enough ingredients left over and I was already on a roll so -” She shrugged.

“Awww, and you made a little design with the crust and everything.” He tapped the little Enterprise logo she’d cut into the pie crust.

“It’s a thank-you for letting me invade your kitchen.”

“I didn’t need a whole pie,” he said, reaching out to slide his fingers through hers. “I’d’ve taken a kiss.”

She smiled at him. “You can have both.” She leaned in to press her mouth to his.

“Mmmm,” he said, settling his hands on her hips. “Kisses and pie. Lucky me.” He kissed her back.

Agreeable warmth skimmed over her skin as they made out, but then he started kissing her harder, leaning into her body and crowding her back against the hard edge of the counter, his fingers digging into her hips.

“Mmf! Cisco!” She pushed at his shoulders.

He broke the kiss, panting. “What is it?”

She stared at him. Her lips felt tender. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Did I hurt you? I’m sorry.”

“No,” she said, nudging him again to get a little more space. He fell back immediately. “I’m fine. I just wasn't expecting that much - energy.”

He tucked her hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry. I guess bad dreams make me horny. If you want to stay, I swear I’ll be gentler.”

She considered him. “I’ll stay,” she said. “But let’s use your bed, okay? Your floor looks really uncomfortable.”

* * *

Cisco stared fixedly at his glass of wine, which was about his third one. Maybe he should stop drinking.

Ever since the beginning of the fall, he’d been turning away questions, fobbing off concern, but he’d never outright lied. But last night, he’d lied to Caitlin. He’d remembered his dream perfectly, and it hadn’t had anything to do with Reverb.

It had been the death vibe. Of course.

It came and went. Sometimes it popped up over and over again, a bad penny intruding on his dreams. Sometimes it stayed away so long that he started to hope it was gone for good. That in spite of what Cynthia had told him, he’d changed his fate without knowing it.

He was damn lucky it had never intruded on the nights he spent with Caitlin.

He’d been able to control his vibes for so long that this one was maddening in its unpredictability. Was he doing something? Was he not doing something? Was he changing the future and then changing it back? What the hell was it?

He’d souped up his suit until it could practically stop a truck, then had to downgrade some of the armor when he realized he was sacrificing speed and mobility. He’d gone to a doctor in Keystone, feeling vaguely as if he was cheating on Caitlin. He’d asked for a full physical, blood tests for everything short of the bubonic plague, and gotten a sparkling clean bill of health in return.

He’d done his best to vibe into next year, to figure out what might take him out. But without a more specific date, he didn’t have much luck. Random flashes that made no sense, mostly. He’d resorted to trying to influence the death vibe itself - making it last longer, trying to change his angle so he could see more of the grave marker. Last night, he’d tried to ask the vision-Caitlin what had happened to him. But she hadn’t responded, and then real Caitlin had woken him up.

December was next week, and then after that it would be 2019. The year he died.

And he still didn’t know how, or when.

“Cisco,” someone said, and the tone in their voice made him think it wasn’t the first time they’d said his name.

He looked up, blinking. “Huh?”

“What are you thankful for, man?” Barry said. “You’re the only one that hasn’t gone.”

“I -” He looked around, at Barry, Iris, Cecile, Joe, and baby Jenna with mashed potatoes all over her face. And Caitlin, sitting across the table from him, brows pulling together just the tiniest bit. He smiled at her, and she smiled back, but her brows stayed concerned.

He reached for his wine glass. “I’m thankful to be here right now,” he said, lifting it and looking into Caitlin’s eyes. “With all my favorite people.”

Her brows softened, and her smile lost some of its tight plastic quality and melted into a real one.

Everyone smiled and laughed, warm and congenial. Joe lifted his glass. “Hear, hear.”

“And for pie,” Cisco said, grinning at Caitlin. “So thankful for pie.”

“To pie!” Barry said, and everyone laughed louder and clinked glasses. Jenna squealed and banged on her little baby tray, knocking some tiny cut-up pieces of turkey to the floor.

Cecile pulled the nearest pie tin closer to her and started cutting slices, offering them around. “Joe, really? Strawberry rhubarb?”

“You bet, give it here. In fact, make it a double.”

“Ice cream or whip cream?” Barry asked Iris.

“You say that like it’s either/or, babe,” she said.

“Not to brag,” Cisco said, “but I got a whole one of these at home. It’s all mine, y’all can’t have any.” He grinned at Caitlin, who was blushing at the praise heaped on her pies. Which was deserved; they were delicious.

He ate two slices of pie and switched to water and tried to enjoy the moment without thinking about the future.

He almost succeeded.

* * *

December slipped away from him like a greased eel. Midway through, Caitlin told him, “We can take this month off trying if you want.”

“No,” he said. “No. No way. I don’t want.” He paused. “Do you?”

“No,” she said slowly. “You seem stressed about it, though.”

“I just thought the deed would be done by now. Not that I’m not still enjoying it,” he added.

“We’re taking a little longer to conceive than a lot of couples, but this isn’t any cause for concern yet.”

He took her hand and kissed her fingers. “If I’m stressed, what better way to destress than a little naked fun?”

“I just want to make sure it stays fun,” she said.

He waggled his brows at her. “If you have something in mind, now’s the time to ask.”

They were watching their terrible, terrible show together, which had become a weekly thing. If it ever got canceled - or somehow actually improved - Cisco didn’t know what they’d both do.

She didn’t respond to his flirting, but just looked at him steadily. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she said. “It seems like something is bothering you.”

He reached for the pizza on the coffee table. “We’ve got this Cicada guy, killing people. That’s extremely uncool.”

“There’s always somebody like that,” she said. “I mean you.”

He set the pizza down. “I’m fine,” he said, leaning over to kiss her. She also usually stayed over after the show.

She kissed him back, but gently nudged him away when he started to nibble at her ear. “Let’s watch the show,” she said.

He ate his pizza and tried to act as not-bothered as he knew how. But when the episode ended on a very unlikely and overly dramatic half-season cliffhanger, she got up and said, “I’m going to go home.”

“You okay?”

"Sure,” she said. “I think that pizza didn’t completely agree with me, though.”

“I’ve got Tums," he said, heaving himself off the couch and turning toward the bathroom.

She gave him a kiss and didn’t answer. “I’m pretty sure I’ll be ovulating again soon,” she said. “I’ll keep you up to date.”

“Okay,” he said, opening a breach for her. When it had sucked closed behind her, he stood looking down at the half-eaten pizza. She’d only had one slice.

She did start her ovulation a few days later, and went to bed with him with every evidence of enjoyment and eagerness. She didn’t ask directly again, but he felt her eyes on him a lot, especially when they were alone together. Like she was waiting for him to turn to her and spill his guts.

_Caitlin, I’m going to die._

No. No way. Nope. He couldn’t do that to her. And anyway, if he found a way out of it, she’d never have to know.

* * *

Cisco stepped around baby Jenna, looking suspiciously at her. She was staring up at the tree like a cat getting ready to pounce.

“Hey,” he called out to Joe, “your kid is eyeballing those ornaments again.”

“She can only reach the baby safe ones,” Joe said, but came over, because who knew. Jenna might have figured out climbing.

Caitlin was curled up in the corner of the couch, talking softly with Cecile. She shook her head and said, “Not yet, but soon, maybe.”

Cisco could guess what that had been about, especially when Cecile glanced at the cup of hot chocolate in his hand. Earlier, Joe had made a toast to the upcoming year "and everything that comes with it.” The weight of people not looking at them had been almost tactile.

Cisco handed Caitlin the cup of got chocolate and pulled over an extra chair. He held out his glass of eggnog and clinked, then reached over and clinked Cecile’s mug of hot cider. She was off the eggnog too, still breastfeeding Jenna.

They made chitchat, comparing notes on holiday shopping and the Cicada and all the small dramas of life in Central City. Cecile got up when she heard Jenna yowl, leaving them alone.

Since the space had opened up, he switched spots to sit next to her on the couch. “Nice dress,” he said.

She ran her hand over the skirt. It was forest green, with a swirly, flowy skirt and a high waist. No wonder Cecile had been asking. “Thank you.”

“Almost doesn’t feel like a Christmas party without some rando you invited,” Cisco teased.

She scrunched her nose at him. “Considering my track record with said randos, I think my choice to hold off this year was a wise one.” She smiled at him. “Anyway, next year, we’ll be bringing the rando together.”

It took him a moment but he realized she meant the baby. The one that didn’t exist yet.

His stomach hurt for a moment, like someone had punched him. The death vibe had hit him in the kitchen just now. He'd spilled eggnog and had to clean it up and dip out a new cup.

He made himself smile and slurp down some eggnog. When he swallowed it, he said, "So - hey."

“Mmm?” She was watching Cecile with Jenna, her eyes dreamy.

“I was thinking . . . After the new year, maybe we wanna go get tested. See if everything’s working the way it should.”

She looked around and blinked at him. “You mean like - at a fertility clinic?”

“Yeah. What if my swimmers are lazy? What if they’re not swimming at all?” It hurt him somewhere in his chest to ask it.

“We don’t need to do that yet.”

“Look, if the problem is me, I want to know so you can maybe go to a sperm bank and have your baby already.” Even if he’d never hold his own baby, maybe he’d still be able to hold Caitlin’s before he died.

He didn’t dare think about if she went out and found another guy. He just - he wasn’t going to think bout that, okay?

She lifted her hand and touched his face. “Cisco. I know it’s frustrating, but it’s only been four months. Even for people with a number of risk factors for infertility, they still don’t recommend testing until six months without conception. At our ages, and with our health histories, they’re more likely to tell us to wait a year.”

_A year?_ He didn’t have a year. “But -”

She touched her lips to his. “It’s going to be okay. It’ll happen.”

“That’s surprisingly laissez-faire of you,” he said grumpily.

She shrugged. “You know it already could’ve. This week. I’m going to run the tests on New Year’s Day.”

He put his hand on her stomach, wondering if there was already a tiny pinprick of him-and-her, making itself at home. “I gotta go spend time with the fam.”

“I’ll text you.” She put her arms around his neck and kissed him, a hot-chocolate-and-cookie kiss.

He let himself lean into it, sliding his arms around her waist, pulling her close.

“Come home with me,” she murmured against his mouth.

He rubbed noses with her. “Didn’t your ovulation end last night?” More or less. It wasn’t like there was a turkey timer that went off or anything.

She shrugged a little. “Yes. But I want to be with you tonight.” She kissed him again.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an extra chapter. Except for a little angst at the beginning, it is basically smuttysmutsmut. If you don't like that stuff, I'll have a nonsmutty chapter on Friday as usual.

When he breached them in, her house was dark and quiet, soothing after the bright lights and crowded cheer of the West house. He’d enjoyed both, but it had started to glaze over into a haze of twinkling lights and a blur of sounds in his ears. 

Maybe he’d been hitting the eggnog a little hard.

“Wait a moment,” Caitlin said. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” he said, and she disappeared down the hallway to her bedroom. 

He wandered around her living room aimlessly, wondering what she had planned. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen her bedroom before. 

Maybe she had some sexy lingerie that she wanted to change into. _Merry Christmas._

He paused at a picture-sized mirror hung on the wall, with a pretty, ornate frame. He’d given it to her for Hanukkah this year. She’d invited him for the first night, which she did some years. He’d always come and hung out with her and brought some little gift to make her smile. This year, though, he’d also brought a bottle of wine and stayed the night.

The mirror showed a dim image of the room and of him. For some reason - the low light, maybe? - it seemed less like a reflection and more like looking through a breach into somewhere else, with some other Cisco staring back.

He had a sudden sharp memory of the mirrors in her old house. The one she had bought with Ronnie.

What with one thing and another, he hadn’t gone over until two days after the explosion. It had been dark and quiet, but not soothing at all. Clothes scattered on the floor, barely-eaten food on the table, and Caitlin herself a hollow-eyed, angry wreck. He’d tossed spoiled food, opened the blinds, and had gone to pull the cloth off the mirror over the fireplace when she’d shoved him hard enough that he’d staggered a foot away. “No! Leave that! Leave it.”

“Just trying to get some light in here, god.”

She’d pulled the cloth over the mirror again, her movements fumbling and frantic. “Leave it. You know what, just leave. Go. Go away.”

It was a thing you did, he gathered after some Googling. Part of sitting shiva for the lost loved one. Every website seemed to have a different reason for it, but it was a thing you did. And Cisco had a hazy, old memory of his nana covering the mirrors when his bisabuelo had died. So it wasn’t only a Jewish thing. He’d gone back and apologized, and she’d permitted him to stay there in the house she had once shared with the man she loved.

He stared at himself in the mirror in her new house, where only she had ever lived. In the dim light, he didn’t look like himself at all.

“Hey,” Caitlin said, and he jolted hard.

She stood in the hallway, barefoot, still wearing the green dress. Her brows had that worried line between them that had been appearing more often lately. “Where did you go?”

He flashed her a reassuring grin. “I was right here,” he said.

The grin didn’t work. The line stayed where it was. “You didn’t look like it.”

“Just zoning out,” he said, reaching out to take her hand. “So, do I have a surprise?”

Her fingers closed around his, and she smiled. “Come and see.”

Her bedroom was lit by a scatter of jar candles that she’d set around, carefully away from curtains and bedclothes and other fire hazards. Sensible Caitlin. But the light was golden and hazy, wavering softly as the air of their movements set the flames flickering. A low murmur of dreamy music drifted from a Bluetooth speaker on her dresser.

“This is really nice,” he said.

“Not too much?”

“I’ll never turn down romance.” He kissed her, and her arms slipped around his neck as she kissed him back. 

He stroked his hands down the line of her back, cupping her bottom and pulling her close. She mmm’ed in her throat, leaning into him.

This was familiar now, in a way it hadn’t been when they’d started. He knew her body now in a way he never wold have thought he could. He knew that when he ran his knuckles over her ribs she would shiver, that she had a way of pressing her mouth to his neck that turned him into pudding. He knew that if he backed up, her bed was just at the right height to hit the back of his legs, for him to sit down on the mattress and pull her into his lap. And that when he did, she would laugh softly in his ear.

He ran his hands under her skirt and stroked up her thighs, his thumbs running over the edge of her panties. They felt lacy, and his brows lifted in anticipation. He started to push her skirt up, but she said, “Ah-ah, not so fast,” and slid off his lap.

“Hey,” he said.

She smiled at him. “I want you to see this clearly.”

He leaned back on his hands. “You putting on a show for me?”

She laughed softly and spun around. The skirt of her dress brushed over his knees and settled back against her legs. “Can you unzip me?”

He undid the teeny hook and pulled the zipper down, revealing the back strap of her bra. It was reddish purple, dark against the paleness of her skin. He ran a finger down her spine and she shivered, as he’d intended. She looked over her shoulder at him and smiled before turning again and shrugging the dress off her shoulders. It slipped and slithered down the curves of her body, revealing her underwear. 

It was new, or at least, he hadn’t seen it before. Some sheer material that revealed the dark shadows of her nipples, lace curling around the lower curve of her breasts, cupping the soft swells. There was a little bow on the panties, just under her belly button. He had the sudden notion she’d wrapped herself up like a present. Just for him. 

He lifted his eyes to hers. “You were wearing this all night? Under that dress?”

She nodded. “You like it?”

He reached out and ran his finger over the swell of her breast, watching her eyes darken, hearing her breath catch. “I think it’s a good thing I didn’t know that, or I might have dragged you away from the party and done dirty things with you in the upstairs bathroom.”

She laughed softly.

He reached to pull his sweater off, and she said, “Let me. Please?”

“Okay,” he said softly.

She ran her hands down his front, pushed his sweater up, and pulled it off over his head. He set his hands on her hips and leaned forward to press a kiss to the soft, fragrant spot between her breasts. She smelled like her prettiest perfume, the one that was oranges and vanilla. Like a Creamsicle, but a million times sexier on her skin. She knew how he liked it.

She took his face in her heads and leaned down to press her open mouth to his. 

He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her close, kissing her deeply, drinking her in. Drowning his senses in her until the world became a bubble with just them, nothing and nobody else. 

Her hands drifted down to the hem of the white t-shirt he’d worn under the sweater, pushing it up. He murmured a soft noise of pleasure against her lips as her soft, cool hands stroked his chest. She broke the kiss so she could tug the undershirt off, and he lifted his arms reluctantly to let her do it.

She tossed his shirt to the bed and then went down on her knees, kissing his chest and his stomach and his belly button on her way down. She slid her hands up his thighs to cup him through his pants, stroking up and down the length until his erection pressed hard against the cloth. 

She smiled to herself, triumphant, and looked up through her lashes with that smile still on her lips. She sat back on her haunches a moment, shaking her hair back and twisting it into a tail that she tossed behind her back. 

Heat rose up as he realized what she wanted to do, and he leaned back on his hands again so she could undo the button of his pants and tug the zipper down over his cock. He let his head fall back, swallowing hard as her wet, hot mouth closed around the tip and sucked softly. 

She worked her tongue around all the sensitive spots she’d learned over the past few months, setting fireworks off under his skin. “God,” he breathed, rolling his hips up. “Caitlin. God. That’s - you - “

She let him go, slowly drawing her lips back to the tip of him and off. “Good?” She murmured.

He looked down at her, and she gave him that same little smile, the one she always gave him before doing something that would leave him boneless with pleasure. He pushed a stray lock of hair out of her face. “You know it is.”

She kissed the vein that ran along the underside of his cock and tipped her head up. “Do you want to come?”

Sometimes they played this way, teasing each other to the edge and backing off, so that when they did finally come it was explosive. But he didn’t have the strength for that tonight. He nodded, and she ducked her head again, taking him in her mouth. Her hair had slid out of its makeshift ponytail and fell around her face. He scooped it up, holding it back, reminding himself not to tug, to let go when it got so good . . .

“Caitlin,” he moaned as she sucked and stroked and licked him. “I’m getting - I’m - “

She gave one last hard suck and his hips thrust on their own as he spilled into her mouth.

When the haze dissipated, he looked down at her still kneeling, smiling up at him. “C’mere,” he said, and she stretched up to kiss him, bracing her arms on the bed next to his still-trembling thighs. He stroked her hair and kissed her deeply, trying to say things he had no words for. 

She pulled away, pressing one last kiss to his cheek, and went to the bathroom. He listened for a moment to the soft sounds of her rinsing out her mouth in the bathroom. She didn’t mind swallowing his cum, or even kissing him with the traces still on her lips, but she didn’t love having the taste in her mouth for a long time. 

He managed to push himself up and pick up his clothes, tossing them onto a chair that had appeared in her bedroom shortly after they’d started sleeping together. He pulled back the covers, pulled a towel out of the closet, and laid it over the cool, clean sheets. She always appreciated that, and he didn’t intend to be particularly neat and tidy tonight.

He was relaxing against the pillows to smile at her as she came out of the bathroom. “So,” he said, his voice husky. “Do I get to unwrap you now?”

She clambered onto the bed next to him and kissed him. “Any way you want.”

“Mmm.” He kissed her deeply for several minutes, running his hands over her back and her sides, feeling her shiver as he danced his fingertips over sensitive spots. “Roll over,” he breathed.

She did, and he pushed her hair over her shoulder so he could press open-mouthed kisses to the line of her spine. He unhooked the bra, slid it off her shoulders, and urged her back to face him, peeling it away to reveal her breasts. She rested back against the pillows, the dancing candlelight gilding her skin, her hair spilling all over the pillow in squiggles and curls like some kind of modern love goddess. He pressed his nose into the softness of her hair, breathing in shampoo-perfume-Caitlin as deep as he could. Her arms came around her shoulders and she turned her face to press her cheek against his. 

For a moment, his eyes burned with tears that he couldn’t understand.

He slipped down her body and began kissing and licking at her breasts, returning them to the realm of sensual pleasure. When her sighs filled his ears, he ran his hands down her sides, under the edges of the lacy panties, and gently slid them down her legs. He made her come once on his fingers, and then again on his tongue, soaking in the soft sounds that escaped her throat and the quiver of her legs on his shoulders.

Her eyes were hazy, her mouth red and wet, and her face and chest flushed with pleasure. She opened her arms and said, “Come here,” and he crawled over her and rested his forehead on hers, closing his eyes. Her arms slipped around his neck. “Cisco,” she murmured. “Cisco.”

He angled his head just enough to kiss her again. “I want to be inside you.”

“Mmmm,” she sighed. “Me too.” She shifted so he settled into the cradle of her hips and her thighs, and he reached down between them, guiding his cock into her slick, warm pussy. They both sighed as he pressed deep inside her. 

They moved lazily together, soft and dreamy, sometimes going entirely still to kiss each other or stroke each others’ damp, warm skin. He kissed her neck and fondled her breasts, and she ran her nails lightly over the small of his back, sending quivers up his spine. 

She didn’t always come when he was inside her like this, but if she’d had an orgasm already and they were in the right position, she could. This time, she did, arching against him with a soft whimper, her inner walls clenching around him, and it was enough to tip him over the edge, spilling into her, trembling and gasping with the honeyed pleasure of it.

They held each other until their skin cooled, and then he shifted off her with one last kiss. The music had stopped at some point, and the candles burned low.

She sat up, pushing her sex-tumbled hair off her face. “Do you want to sleep here?” she offered shyly, although he did it all the time.

“I’d love to. You want the bathroom first?”

“You can go,” she said, rolling off the towel and folding it up to put into the laundry basket. She pulled on a robe and started blowing out the candles and adding a smoke-scent to the air. The light dimmed from gold to silver as it shifted from candlelight to moonlight.

They cleaned up, changed into sleepwear, and crawled back into the warm, rumpled bed. He pulled the covers up over them and looked over at her, one pillow over in the dark. “Caitlin?”

“Mmm.” She sounded sleepy and lazy.

He didn’t blame her. He felt half-melted himself, relaxed right to his bones. But he wanted to say something before he forgot. “Thank you.”

The shadows hid her expression, and for a long moment she didn’t answer. But finally, she whispered, “Merry Christmas, Cisco.”


	11. Chapter 11

For days, Caitlin felt like she moved in a fog. The night after the Christmas party had been for Cisco - the music, the candlelight, the sweet lazy lovemaking - but it felt like she’d been one the one seduced. She kept turning over the feelings she’d uncovered as if they were gemstones she’d never seen before.

What was she going to do about them?

“Caitlin,” Barry said.

She jerked awake. “Sorry. What?”

He stood in the doorway of her lab. “Do you have the results yet?”

“The results,” she said blankly.

“The DNA?”

Like a lightning bolt, she remembered the skin scrapings she’d been given. Barry had done his initial CSI stuff on them, but she’d asked for them to run a test of their metagenes, to see if she could theorize how this person could escape as slickly as he could. Cisco had already dubbed him the Eel, of course.

She darted a glance at her computer and realized the cursor was blinking patiently, waiting for her to hit the button and start running the analysis. “Sorry,” she said, doing so. “I - I didn’t start it yet.”

“You what? Caitlin - “

“I just started it, won’t take long to get results.”

“Okay, but you were the one who asked - ”

“I know I did. I’m a little distracted today,” she said, giving him a rueful smile. “Probably not caffeinated enough. I’ll bring it out there when I’ve got them.”

He looked confused, but just shook his head. “Okay.” He headed back toward the cortex.

She double checked that the analysis was running and calculated she had just enough time to go grab some coffee. _Focus, Caitlin. Metas, Central City, the safety of the general population. Your feelings will keep._

Half an hour later, she sent her findings to the central server and took her half-full coffee cup to the cortex as quickly as she could. “Sorry, sorry, but I’m all done and I think I’ve got something.”

Only Iris was there, looking up curiously. “A theory?”

“Maybe,” Caitlin said, pulling it up and showing her. “Okay, do you see this? This protein here. It’s being expressed in a really unique way, do you see how it . . .” She finished her explanation and turned to see Iris looking lost. She winced. “Did I start speaking sciencese again?”

“Only at the end,” Iris said kindly. “But have you got a specific application in mind, now that you know about this protein?”

“I might. Where are the guys?”

“Went out to check on something.”

Caitlin reached for the communicator, but Iris put out her hand to stop her. “Are you okay? Barry said you hadn’t even started running that test when he asked you about it.”

“Just got distracted,” she said.

“Is there something on your mind?”

“It’ll keep,” Caitlin said. “We need to catch this meta.”

Iris rolled her eyes. “Did Barry yell at you? Ignore him. You know nobody’s seen this meta since last night, and all he stole was money, so we’re not at DEFCON-5 here.”

“Actually, DEFCON-5 is the lowest setting of that scale, DEFCON-1 is the highest state of emergency.”

“Okay, Queen Pedant, but you get my point. You can take a moment to talk if you need to.” She waited a moment, then added pointedly, “Do you need to talk about anything?”

Caitlin chewed her lip.

“Is it Cisco?”

“It is,” she said in a low voice, “but I - I want to think about it some more, if that’s okay.”

“Okay,” Iris said, dropping her hand. “Just remember I’m here.”

“I know. Thank you.” Caitlin hit the button. “Guys? It’s Caitlin. I’m done with that analysis. Can you get back here?”

About half an hour later, they’d hashed out a reasonable countermeasure to the meta’s ability, when a breach opened up in the middle of the room.

The alarms went apeshit, of course, but Cisco yelled over them, “It’s fine, no big deal, Cynthia just needs to talk!” Before anyone could argue the point, he’d jumped into the breach, and it sucked closed behind him.

“What the hell,” Barry said.

They’d all gotten used to that particular sequence of events while Cisco was dating Cynthia. Sometimes he would come back in a few minutes, sometimes not for hours, and almost always flushed and grinning and looking well-kissed.

Caitlin thought, _They broke up. They’ve been broken up since April._

Iris gave her a concerned look. “You okay?” she murmured.

Barry grumbled, “I can’t believe he just took off like that. I thought he was done doing that.”

“It’s fine,” she said. “They’re friends.”

“What does that have to do with anything? He took off. We’re in the middle of something important right here.”

“Babe,” Iris said.

“What?” Barry said.

“She probably just - “ Caitlin floundered. “They’re friends,” she repeated, turning her chair to her computer.

* * *

Cynthia’s breach took him to a riverbank. On Earth-1, it was a chintzy mini-golf course. Here on 19, it was a park. Cynthia sat on one of the benches, bundled in a leather coat and mittens.

“You’re about a year late for Christmas,” he said, regretting it almost immediately when she threw him a nasty look.

Her striptease-o-gram aside, that had been a barn-burner of a fight last year. It hadn’t really ever gotten resolved so much as quietly dropped, the way things did when you didn’t want to spend your limited time together fighting.

“Sorry,” he said. “That was snarky.”

“Yeah,” she bit out.

He took a seat next to her, wishing he’d known they were going to be outside so he could have grabbed his coat. “So what’s up?”

“You never got in touch,” she said. “We were going to take a day, before New Year’s.”

“Yeah,” he said, remembering. “Ah. Sorry. Things got crazy.”

“Barry get himself a new arch-nemesis? Need you at his beck and call as usual?”

“Now who’s being snarky?”

She looked away. “How are you?” she said in a softer tone.

“Okay,” he said.

“Still seeing the death vibe?”

“Mmm.” He looked at her quickly. “Do people ever stop - ?”

“No,” she said.

“Why’d you ask, then?”

“To bring it up,” she said. “Any more details?”

“Nope.”

She nodded. “How you handling it?”

“Well, I’m gonna die, so that’s sub-optimal.” He rubbed his temples. “I’ve been trying not to think about it.”

“Your crew know?”

He shook his head. “That’s helped. With the not-thinking-about-it.”

She twisted her mouth a little.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Good,” she said.

“Things rolling along about like usual with the agency?”

“Yeah, we’re doing okay. Got a couple of noobs. If we can get them through their training, they should be decent agents. Maybe I can finally catch up with the paperwork.”

“Good,” he said. “Sounds good.”

She let out a huff of breath. “I’m, um.” She picked at the cuffs of her jacket. “I’m also kind of seeing somebody.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. A few months now.”

“Hey, that’s great.”

She turned to look at him.

“No, it is,” he said, realizing it was true. Even if they couldn’t be together, he still cared about her and wanted her to be happy. “What’s he like?”

“Nice,” she said. “Hot. Sexy as hell.”

“Is he a breacher?”

“Nah, he’s an artist.”

“Hold up,” he said. “You’re sleeping with an artist? You? Leeches on the fabric of society, layabouts who do jackshit, why the fuck is this in a museum, I could make it with Play-Doh, have I covered everything?”

“Shut up,” she grumbled.

He snickered. “Have you gone to any gallery shows? Stood around in high heels eating deconstructed coleslaw on skewers, talking about a painting that’s basically tissue paper that someone squirted with a spray bottle?”

“Shut up. No. Anyway, I wanted you to know. Because in case you needed to talk or whatever, give me a heads up so - “

“So I don’t breach in on him painting you like one of his French girls?”

“Shut up!” She smacked him in the shoulder. “Okay, Donovan’s a sculptor, right? He works in marble. You know what that means? It means he has chisels that can go up your nose and pop out the top of your head, and I will use one of them on you if you make another joke about this, you got me?”

He laughed so hard he had to hold his stomach, while Cynthia made hollow threats, trying not to smile.

“Whew,” he said, wiping his eyes. “Woof. Okay. Okay. No more jokes.” He snickered one last time. “I’m glad for you. I really am. You like him, I can tell. Even if he is an artist.”

She huffed, looking away. “Well, he is really hot.”

“That’s about all the details I need, thanks,” he said.

She smirked at him.

He rubbed his arms. “Jesus, how many degrees below zero is it out here? Maybe this is how I die. I get pneumonia because you needed to tell me about your hot artist dude.”

“Wait,” she said as he got up. “I wanted to say something. Not about Donovan.”

“What is it?” he asked, tucking his fingers inside his armpits to thaw them out.

“I wanted to say that, uh, whenever it happens? I’ll know.”

He hugged himself tighter, feeling the light feeling from his earlier laughter dissipate.

“Vibers know,” she said. “When one of us goes. The closer you are, the harder you feel it. I’m gonna feel it.”

He knew she didn't mean physical proximity. “I - thanks? I guess?”

“If I can, I’ll be there for you,” she said. “If I get enough of a heads-up. And if I can’t, I’ll come to your funeral.”

He looked down at the ground, idly stomping his feet. They felt like blocks of ice. “That’s,” he said. “Nice of you. Good to know.”

“And if you do need to talk, or - or anything? Give me a hail, okay?”

“Yeah,” he said.

She got to her feet. “So,” she said. “That’s everything, I think.”

“Hang on,” he said.

“What?”

“Can I ask you a favor?”

“Yeah, anything.”

He licked his lips and regretted it as the cold stung his mouth. Geez, where was he even going to start this? “So, you know my friend Caitlin?”

“Killer Frost,” Cynthia said flatly.

“AKA Killer Frost, yes,” he said, giving her a hard look. She’d never really warmed up to Caitlin - pun not entirely intended. He guessed he couldn't blame her considering some of her first impressions. “Anyway, she had some . . . health stuff come up earlier this year.”

Cynthia put up her hand. “No,” she said. “Stop right there. I don’t want to hear it.”

“Hear what?”

“No,” she snapped. “No, no, no. I have a job to do. Don’t you get that? And while taking someone to Earth-37 for treatment is all nice and noble, it’s still against the law and if I know about it, I have to hunt you down, so don’t make me hunt you down, okay? Just don’t make me do it.”

“What? No! I’m not taking her anywhere for anything! She’s fine.”

Cynthia dropped her hand. “Then what the fuck are you taking about?”

“I’m talking about -” he swallowed. “Caitlin’s health stuff that came up made it so - so she doesn’t have much time left to have a baby. You know. Biologically.”

Silence.

“Oh,” Cynthia said. “And you always wanted kids.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I mean, not like this. But it’s kind of nice, knowing something of me is still going to be around after I shuffle off the mortal coil.”

“So you’re -”

“We’re working on that. Yeah. And what I wanted to ask is, if you’d be there for my son or daughter.”

She pressed her lips together.

“I know it's weird, and I’m not asking you to be godmother, or for free babysitting, or anything. I’m just saying, if they turn out to be a viber, and from the looks of your family, the chances of that are pretty good - “

“Yeah,” she said. “Pretty dominant gene.”

“Right. We’ve talked about this. How lucky you were to grow up knowing what you were going to become. I had to handle it on my own. I didn’t know what was happening. I didn’t know what I could do or how I could do it, and I was scared out of my mind at how much bigger it seemed to get every day. I don’t want that for my kid."

Her face was tight. He couldn't read it.

"So that’s all I’m asking," he said softly. "Just be around. Help them through it. You don’t have to be their sensei or offer them a job - in fact, I’d rather you didn’t offer them a job, but that’s between you guys.”

She picked at the stray thread again. “Okay, yeah,” she said, clipping the words off. “I can do that. When’s she due?”

“She’s not pregnant yet, actually. But when she is, I’ll drop a message so you know about when she’ll be due. You don’t need to come by if you don’t want. Just keep it in the back of your mind. Maybe check in every so often.”

“Will she know? That I’m doing this?”

“I, uh. I’ll write a letter or something.”

“Yeah,” she said. “All right. Congratulations, in advance. Hope you get to see the kid.”

"Me too." He let out his breath and watched it stream in a plume out into the winter air. “Thanks. That’s a load off my mind.” He stamped his feet again. “Okay. Now I really should get back before my toes fall off.”

She hugged him, small and solid and warm. “It was good to see you.”

“You too,” he said. “Happy New Year.”

“I’d say the same, but - you know.”

“Mmmm.” He flexed his fingers. He had the feeling she’d met him outside like this so she wasn’t tempted to sit around talking with him for too long. He might have done the same in her position. “Take care of yourself, okay?" He shot her a grin. "And if you go to one of those gallery openings, make sure it’s a toilet and not an art piece before you pee in it.”

He jumped into the breach before she could punch his shoulder again. 

* * *

The breach opened up again with a gust of chilly air that tossed Caitlin’s hair around her face. Cisco jumped through and landed in the middle of the cortex. “Ooof,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “Heat! I nearly froze my nuts off over there.”

He looked flushed, but if he’d been somewhere cold, then that could be it. He didn’t look as if he’d been kissing anyone. But there was a laugh dying away from his face and happy crinkles around his eyes.

What had happened to make him look so cheerful?

Caitlin looked at her keyboard and told herself it was nothing, it was fine, it was none of her business. It wasn’t as if he were her boyfriend. For instance.

“You’re back quickly,” Barry said.

“Yeah, she just wanted to check in with me. Sorry for running off. I’m back now. So where are we at?”

“Almost the same place where we were,” Caitlin said. She tried to sound as breezy and careless as she possibly could. “So, uh, what did she need?”

“Oh, just an update on something I’d asked her about. You remember when I went and saw her a few months ago?”

“Right,” Caitlin said, although now that she thought about it, she’d never really gotten the whole story on whatever “breacher thing” he'd gone to Earth-19 about. She looked over and saw Iris raising her eyebrows, and looked away quickly.

“Yeah. Oh, and I also told her about our thing.”

“The Cicada?” Barry said, sounding more cheerful. “Did she have any ideas? Any Cicadas on other Earths?”

Cisco gave him a funny look. “No,” he said. “When I said our thing, I meant Caitlin’s and mine. Our project?”

“Oh,” Caitlin said.

"That okay?"

"Sure," she said. "We're not keeping it a secret, after all."

“She says mazeltov. Okay.” He rubbed his hands together again. “I really need some coffee or something, I’m not kidding about how cold it was. Caitlin, hot chocolate? Tea?”

“I’m good,” she said. “I don’t need anything.”

“Be right back,” he said, and breached away again.

Caitlin fiddled with her stylus and avoided Iris’s eyes.


	12. Chapter 12

They drew straws for who was going to babysit the systems on New Year’s Eve, breaching or zipping to the scene of anything that needed superhuman intervention. Barry got the short straw, so of course, Iris preferred to stay with him.

Cisco decided to go downtown. There was always a big party in the square where they’d had Flash Day - local music, food trucks, and at midnight, a countdown and an atom, sponsored by the local baseball team, exploding on the stroke of midnight. Cisco had always thought that was a weird and unfortunate choice, all things considered, but it had been years since the real explosion and nobody had ever changed it.

Caitlin made a face at the thought of a crowded, cold New Year’s in downtown Central. But she asked, “Do you want me to come with you?”

He wanted her to come with him, a lot.

But some old pals from Mercury Labs had invited her to a party in Central City’s ritziest hotel. It sounded totally classy to him, one hundred percent Caitlin’s speed. So he snorted. “Nah, you guys are boring. I’m going out and having fun.”

“Get it in while you can,” she said, glancing at her phone as it buzzed with a text.

He looked at her sharply. “What?”

She looked up from her phone and frowned at him. “I just meant that next New Year’s Eve, we’ll hopefully have an infant.” She waggled her finger at him. “And you don’t get out of diaper duty for a party, Mister.”

“Right,” he said, relaxing. “Ha. Yeah. Obviously.”

She frowned at him again.

Unless his fate was to get run over by a car in exactly three hundred and sixty-five days, he wouldn’t be here next year. He swallowed. “See you guys,” he said casually.

* * *

The party at the hotel promised a finger food buffet and a glass of complimentary champagne at midnight with the price of a ticket. Caitlin donned skyscraper heels and a glamorous gown with a slit halfway up her thigh. She did her eyes smoky, her lips crimson, and pulled out a somewhat avant-garde silver necklace and earrings that Iris had given her for Christmas. She looked at herself in the mirror when she’d assembled the whole look, and found it good.

For a moment, she thought of taking a mirror selfie and sending it to Cisco. Maybe he'd change his mind and come with her to the hotel. He always looked so good in a tux.

She shook her head and went to call a cab.

She met up with the group from Mercury Labs in the lobby of the hotel. They all waved and called out to her, and she smiled, giving hugs and air kisses. She wasn’t really very close to any of them. Well, she wasn’t close to anyone except the people at Star Labs anymore. But her old coworkers were nice, and smart, and while there was plenty of shoptalk on their nights out, it was hardly ever about how to save the world. She found it restful.

This time, the group was a little bigger than usual, with a lot of faces she didn’t know. She smiled gamely and tried to remember the things that Iris had taught her about how to make small talk that wasn’t medical or scientific in nature. One of the men, who was handsome in a slick sort of way, invited her to dance. Jack something. She accepted, because she liked dancing, and he made conversation rather than heavy-handed flirting. That continued through their dance and he didn’t get handsy or smarmy. By the time they were walking back to the table at the end of the song, she thought he was probably just being friendly and had wanted to dance and didn’t care who it was with.

Which was why it took her by surprise when he said, “Caitlin, I’d love to take you out sometime. What do you think?”

She almost tripped over her own shoes. “I’m sorry?”

“You’re cute, and smart, and I enjoy that in a date. How about Friday? There’s an exhibition at the modern art museum - “

“Oh,” she said foolishly. “I, uh. That sounds nice, but I’m actually seeing someone.”

Oh. That had come out of her mouth very easily.

His brows went up. “Really? I’m sorry. Ashley said you were single.”

Ashley, who was sitting at their table checking her phone, looked up. “I heard my name.”

“You said Caitlin was single. I made a fool out of myself.” He laughed a little to show he didn’t really mean that.

“Well, you don’t need my help for that,” she said. “Wait, Caitlin, I didn’t know you were seeing someone.”

“I am,” Caitlin said. “Remember, I told you, someone from work.” She glanced at Jack. “You didn’t make a fool of yourself. You were very suave, actually.”

“Suave,” he said. “Suave is good, right?”

“Jack, go get us cheese,” Ashley said, flapping her hand in the direction of the buffet. When he’d departed, she said, “God, I’m sorry. I forgot all about that. I got the impression it wasn’t all that serious anyway, and well - “ She waved a hand at the party. “You didn’t bring him.”

“He wanted to go to the festivities downtown,” Caitlin said. “It’s okay. I haven’t mentioned him a lot. We’re not very serious, really.” She toyed with a discarded napkin.

“Should I give you Jack’s number anyway?”

She looked up, blinking. “No,” she said. “We’re not that serious, but I’d like to be.”

“Aaaahhhh,” Ashley said. “It’s like that? Okay. Well, I hope that works out, and if it doesn’t - “ She sipped from her wine. “I’m sure Jack would be happy to hear from you.”

* * *

They weren’t selling alcohol in the square, so Cisco found a party at a bar and got roaring drunk, just trashed out of his gourd, until they refused him service. He ignored their offer to call him a cab, told them to fuck themselves instead, and lurched out and down the street to the square, full of laughter and talking and random whoops from excited people. The waves of sound battered his ears until they coalesced into the countdown to midnight.

“Five!”

“Four!”

_“Three!”_

_“Two!_

_“ONE!”_

He leaned against a handy wall and watched the atom explode. He felt numb. Floaty. Already sliding away from his body.

“Happy New Year!” the crowd cheered in one voice. Then the collective sound broke apart into cheers and whoops and some attempts at that New Year’s Eve song that nobody really knew the words to. He watched couples kissing, happy, together, and shut his eyes, wishing he’d gone with Caitlin, or gotten her to come with him, because his lips were lonely and his arms were empty and fuck, he was maudlin. Might as well start writing bad poetry.

He wanted to go home.

He still had enough non-pickled brain cells to realize that if he tried to open a breach right now, he would end up on Earth-41 or something and probably get burned as a witch. The modern world had given that dimension a miss. Most interdimensional travelers left it alone.

So he tried texting Barry. It took ten minutes to find his phone in the pocket where he always kept it.

* * *

After the countdown had hit zero, the balloons had dropped, and Caitlin had ducked away from at least two random men who thought "Happy New Year" meant "please feel free to assault any lone women in the area," she slipped away from the party, to a quiet corner of the lobby. Setting down her champagne flute and pulling out her phone, she dialed Iris. "I've had kind of a revelation," she said without preamble.

"Happy New Year to you, too," Iris said. "About Cisco?"

"I do have feelings for him. I have for awhile now. And I'd like to be with him. Not just for sex or the baby. To be with him."

"Oh my god," Iris drawled. "I have to sit down. I'm in shock. I never saw this coming."

Caitlin rolled her eyes. "My question is, what do I do about it?"

"Why am I suddenly the sidekick in a romantic comedy? What do you think I'm going to tell you?"

"To tell him?"

Iris let her silence speak for itself.

Caitlin ran her finger over the beading on the slit of her dress. "You're right."

"The sidekick is always right."

"Maybe I should go find him right now. I mean, it's New Year's Eve, after all."

"You planning to go full _When Harry Met Sally_?"

Caitlin stuck her foot out and studied her heels. "I can't run in these shoes. Do you think he'd meet me here?"

Barry said something in the background, and Iris said, "What?" After a moment, she laughed. "Oh, yeah, he's bombed. Go get him, babe."

"What is it?" Caitlin asked.

"Barry just got a text from Cisco and he sounds _trashed."_

"Oh," Caitlin said. "Not a good time, then."

"Hey," Iris said. "Don't talk yourself into waiting for the perfect moment, okay? Just tell him how you feel as soon you're both sober. Believe me, his answer isn't going to depend on you getting everything just right."

Caitlin swallowed. "What if he doesn't feel the same way?"

"I doubt that," Iris said. "I really do."

“Thanks,” Caitlin said. “Happy New Year. Is it quiet otherwise?”

“Mmmhm. Just one blitzed superhero that needs transportation.”

* * *

Barry called him back, which considering he’d gotten a text that said, _Carn guffljm donto,_ wasn’t surprising. “Cisco?”

“Hey,” he said, sliding down the wall. “Hey. Bare. Hey man. Hey.”

“Are you drunk?”

“’M sooooo drunk. Can you come pick me up? I don’wan’ sleep here. S’cold.”

“Where are you?”

He tipped his head back to look at the atom, still exploding overhead with twinkles of light. “Flash Day,” he said.

“What? Where?”

“You got a key to the city,” he said dreamily. “’Member? And Caitlin was there . . . an’ Atom . . . ” He sighed. “Poor Atom.” He turned his head. “Oooo. Jitters’s open. Shoul’I ge’coffee? I want coffee.”

“The square,” Barry said. “Okay, stay there. Don’t breach anywhere, for God’s sake.”

“Won’,” Cisco mumbled. “D’wanna get burned th’stake.”

There was a whoosh of air, and then Barry was crouching down next to him, wind-tossed, saying, “Huh?”

“Cuzwitch,” Cisco explained.

“Okay,” Barry said, reaching out and gently pulling the phone out of Cisco’s hand and ending the call. He tucked it back in its usual pocket. “Can you get up?”

“Uh-huh,” he said. "Sure can."

After a moment, Barry said, “Cisco, man, get up.”

“D’wanna.”

“So you want me to sling you over my shoulder? What are we talking here?"

“I barf,” Cisco said decidedly. “No ride.”

“Okay,” Barry said. “Up, up, up.” He hauled Cisco to his feet, got an arm around his waist, and said, “You ready?”

“Mmmmmyeahhhhhh . . . “ Cisco heard his voice dopplering off into the distance. When they stumbled to a halt in his apartment, he remembered why he’d never liked riding along with the Flash, because it made him queasy. “Oh shit I’mma -”

Barry rushed him to the bathroom just in time for him to completely miss the toilet and puke all over the floor. “Sorry,” he said, and puked again.

“No,” Barry sighed, nudging him toward the toilet. “It’s fine. Get it all out.”

When he was spitting out thin stings of bile, he sat on his bathmat with a thud. “Yuck,” he said. “Hate that.”

Barry crouched by him with a bottle of water and an aspirin. “Take this.”

“Don’t wanna,” he said petulantly. “My stomach hurts.” He poked his belly. “Mal de estomago.”

“Your head’s going to hurt more if you don’t,” Barry said. “Muy mal - uh - calabacita.”

Cisco busted up laughing, even though it hurt his stomach. “Squashes! Bad squashes.”

“What?” Barry twisted the top off the water bottle. “Come on, please? Drink.”

Cisco drank, leaning against the cool porcelain of the toilet. With clean-smelling whooshes, the vomit disappeared from his bathroom floor. The breeze chilled the sweat on his skin, and he shivered.

“How are you doing?” Barry asked him.

“Better,” he mumbled. “Wan’go bed now.”

With his friend’s help, he managed not to trip over his own feet as he peeled down to his boxers and crawled into his clean-smelling sheets. “Thanks, man,” he mumbled into the pillow. “Owe you.”

“Nah, you don’t,” Barry said. “You good? Did you drink all the water? Take the aspirin?”

“Yessssssss,” he said.

“Okay, I’m going back, then. Feel better, okay?”

 “Bare,” he mumbled, sticking his arm out. His hand rammed into Barry’s hip, eliciting an oof. “Barry, Bare, I need you to tell me something. S’important.”

“What’s that?”

His fingers curled into the hem of Barry’s sweater, holding him in place. “Will you miss me when I’m gone?”

“You going somewhere?”

“Where are we all going?”

“That’s deep, man. That’s pretty deep.”

“No, but will you?”

“Yeah,” Barry said indulgently, prying his fingers loose. “Yeah, I’ll miss you.”

“Okay,” Cisco said closing his eyes. “Sometimes I dunno. You never miss Caitlin.”

* * *

Barry paused before taking off. “What? I missed that last part. What?”

An earth-shattering snore answered him. He shook his head.

He zipped back to Star Labs where Iris was topping off their champagne. “So,” she said, handing him one. “Did you get him home okay?”

“Yeah, I poured him into bed,” Barry said, hugging her close and kissing her lips. “He was really bombed. Babbling about, like, squash and sandwiches . . . anyway, he’s going to feel it in the morning.”

“Did he just party too hard?”

“I -” Barry hadn’t seen Cisco that drunk since his breakup with Cynthia. For a moment, he wondered if there was something wrong.

But it was New Year’s Eve. People famously drank too much on New Year’s Eve. Well, other people. Not the Flash.  

Cisco was fine. Cisco was always fine.

“Yeah, I think he overdid it without one of us along. So.” He sipped his champagne and bumped noses with her. “Any New Year’s resolutions?”

“Mmmmmm. I think I should kiss a handsome superhero. Like, a lot.”

“Oh, hey, I can help you with that.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a good amount of incidental Spanish in here, mixed with English. I hope that you can pick up the meaning from context, but let me know if it's just too hard to read.

On the first day of the last year of his life, Cisco dragged himself out of bed around ten AM. He drank the rest of the water bottle Barry had left on the bedside table, took two more aspirin, and considered whether he was going to throw up again. It seemed unlikely. He sat on the edge of the bed, taking stock. A little headachy, kinda furry-tongued, definitely empty-stomached.

He thought, _This is it. The last New Year’s Day I’ll see._

The year unrolled in front of him, and somewhere in there was a wall. No Entry Beyond This Point, not if you were Cisco Ramon. 

Would it happen today? Tomorrow? Next week?

He cursed the uncooperative vibe. 

He trudged to the kitchen and found a bottle of Gatorade, the orange kind, and drank carefully. His stomach went _hmmmmm_ but accepted it. The winter sunlight through the kitchen window cut into his eyes, making his head ache, and he shut them. His bare feet were cold on the linoleum. His shoulder twinged some when he lifted the bottle to his lips again.

His body. 

Twenty-nine years and some months old, light brown skin, black hair, brown eyes. Shorter than he’d like. A little tendency toward pudge, although he’d muscled up some since becoming Vibe. Good shoulders, good arms, excellent butt. Really good hair, could grow a full beard by holding his breath, very hairy other places too. Good teeth, good smile, good ears, not-great vision but that was what contacts were for. An ache that kept coming back to his shoulder, a little lactose intolerance that made his fondness for cheesecake less fun than it could be. 

Suddenly he wanted to cry.

His stupid body.

He wanted to stay in it.

He wanted to eat and drink everything that had ever tasted good to him. He wanted to hug everyone he loved, feeling their skin and their heartbeat next to his. He wanted to blow things up just for the boom. He wanted to buy a house with a backyard so he could have barbecue parties for all his friends and Caitlin could happily fuss over side dishes. He wanted to invent a million more things. He wanted to see Caitlin smile at him for a million more days. He wanted to go to fireworks in the square and swat away mosquitoes. He wanted to see all the universes there were. He wanted to have so much more sex with Caitlin. He wanted to lie next to her on a summer morning, sleeping in. 

He wanted to hold their baby.

He wanted to see the first time they recognized him and smiled.

He wanted to hold their fat little hand as they wobbled across the floor, trying out this “walking” thing.

He wanted to take pictures of their first day of school, to hug them when they cried over some little-kid drama, to introduce them to a world full of wonders. He wanted to teach them Spanish and remind them not to swear in front of their mama. He wanted to be around for their teenage dirtbagginess. He wanted to embarrass them at their high school graduation and hold Caitlin’s hand at their college graduation, and dance at their wedding.

This wasn’t fucking _fair._

He let out a scream of rage and hurled the bottle of Gatorade at the wall. The cap flew off and orange Gatorade spewed all over the kitchen. 

He slumped back against the fridge, panting. Gatorade had spattered his face. He wiped it away and watched orange liquid drip down the walls. He had to wipe his face again and found that he was crying, slow oily tears rolling down his face, dripping off his chin, sneaking into the coroners of his mouth to spread salt on his tongue.

“This just sucks,” he said out loud to the universe. “This just fucking sucks.”

The universe, cold and uncaring, gave no answer.

* * *

Cisco breached out behind a convenience store around the corner from his auntie’s house. It was a good landing spot; no back windows and a high fence between it and the nearest house. He zipped up his jacket and headed into the neighborhood, walking down sidewalks his feet knew well. 

He’d dropped by his folks’ place on Christmas Day, long enough to exchange presents and have dinner with them. But whenever he was there, he always had a mental countdown of how long he had until he could slide out the door again. New Year’s Day at his auntie’s was better - less fraught, less tense, less painful. It wasn’t him and his parents around the table, trying to find things to talk about. It was a houseful of relatives, moving around, catching up, yelling at the game on the TV, eating pozole and drinking beer. With people constantly leaving and arriving, there was always a handy excuse to slip into and out of conversations.

And of course, at his auntie’s house, there was no empty, silent piano.

He stood on the front walk, staring blankly at the peeing garden gnome his uncle adored.

What would stand empty this time next year?  

He looked up at the window. He couldn’t hear anything from here, of course, but he could fill in from past experience: the voices chattering in Spanglish, the cheerful nosiness of his relatives, the smell of cooking soup, the faint roar of the crowd on the TV. He almost didn’t want to go in. And then he did, more than anything. 

The door opened and his mama stepped out. “Cisco? Why are you just standing there?” Without waiting for an answer, she called over her shoulder, "It's Cisco!"

From inside, there was a general chorus of _ohhhhhh!_ and then a gabble of _come in_ and _where have you been?_

He managed a smile. “Hey, Mama.”

His mama came down the steps to give him a hug and a kiss. "Happy New Year, mijo."

He kissed her cheek in return. "Feliz Año Nuevo." He hugged her, too, and held her for a moment, wondering if this was the last time, until she nudged him away, looking puzzled. 

"Come in. Say hello. Hector brought his new girlfriend. Be nice. Don't talk about his old girlfriend."

"Which one?" he asked, following her.

She gave him a hairy eyeball which meant that was exactly the kind of thing he wasn't supposed to say.

He went around giving kisses and saying hello. The new girlfriend was very cute and looked weirdly like Hector’s old girlfriend. His cousin had a type. He smiled and chatted for a moment, then excused himself and headed for the kitchen. The pozole had escaped the ministrations of Tia Berta, thank god. If this was the last time he was going to ever eat pozole he didn't want it to have a shitload of whatever hellspice she thought gave it a little kick. 

“Hey, Pop,” he said, dropping onto the couch and hooking an arm around his pop’s shoulders.

“Ay, mijo, you see this?” his dad said, hugging him back and thumping his shoulder a little. “Look at this defense.”

Cisco studied the screen. “Who are they kidding?”

“I know, huh.”

Tia Alma leaned over the back of the couch to demand her share of besitos, then yelled out almost right in Cisco’s ear, “Yaniiiiiiiiii! Ven aqui! Tu primo!” 

No answer.

She paused, huffed, and yelled, “YYYAAAAAAAAAAAANNNIIIIIIIIII!!!!” Hands propped on her hips, she looked down at Cisco. “That girl,” she said. “Staying in her room all day.”

He rubbed his ear. “She’s almost fifteen, right? It’s the age.”

“She cut off all her pretty hair, que loca.”

 His cousin Yanitza trudged out, but when she spotted Cisco, her face lit up and she ran to hug him so hard that he had to hold his soup out of harm's way. "Hey, mocosa," he said, kissing her head. She'd cut her hair so short that it stuck up from her scalp like inky black duckling fuzz. "Love the do."

"Thanks!" she said, shooting her mother a _See_ kind of look. Alma rolled her eyes and went back to gossiping in Spanish with Cisco’s mama and two of his other aunties.

“Actually,” Yani whispered in his ear, “I hate it, but don’t ever tell mom because she’ll never let me forget it.”

“My lips are sealed,” he whispered back. “Hijole,” he added as she stuck her fingers in his soup bowl to fish out a chunk of pork. “Hands off! Who raised you?”

She giggled.

He'd been fifteen when Yani was born, living with Tia Alma and Tio Bendito for the summer. The official reason had been to go to the sci-tech summer program down the street, which was three bus rides away from his parents’ house. But living there had been like being able to take a deep breath for the first time in his life. And he’d loved helping with the baby. He remembered sitting right here on this same couch, holding her while her parents made dinner or napped or whatever. He'd loved it, this tiny thing with her big eyes, so trusting as she drank her bottle or listened to him read from comic books. He would hold her anytime, humming pop songs when she fussed. His cousin Gio had said, "Mira, he'll be a great little mommy someday!"

Dante had heard about that and punched Gio so hard, he'd had a black eye for a week. 

Dante had been okay sometimes.

Over the years, he’d been in and out of contact with his extended family and even his parents, but he’d always checked in with his aunt and uncle on a regular basis, even if it was a quick text that just said _Hi pienso en udestes, besitos a todos_

Yani was as tall as him now, and she showed him pictures on her phone of her school's winter dance and the girl she'd gone with. "Araceli," she said, blushing and smitten. 

"Damn, you guys are cute together," he said. "So, are you dating or what?"

"Um, I don't know? She went to visit her family in Mexico over break, but we've skyped every day and she's so funny and pretty and - and -” She blushed harder. “I really love kissing her."

"Sounds like love to me," he said, and she beamed at him.

Auntie Berta leaned over from the nearby chair. “Mijo, speaking of kissing, are you still with that girl?”

For a moment he thought she meant Caitlin, and that she knew all about their deal to get pregnant. He wouldn’t put it past her. Like any self-respecting viejita, she had spies everywhere. 

“The Cindy girl,” she added. 

“Oh,” he said. “No, we broke up.”

His pop said, “Wait, you did?”

“I told you he did,” his mama called over. “Nunca me eschuchas.”

“Do too,” his pop said, and turned back to Cisco. “Why? She was cute.”

“You hated her.”

“Mande? I said she was sassy. I like sassy. Mira a tu mami.”

“I heard that!” she yelled from the kitchen.

“And she was Latina.”

“She just needed to quit that job of hers,” Hector added, leaning over the back of the couch. “How many times did she cancel until we finally met her?”

“Well, she didn’t want to quit her job,” Cisco said. “And I wasn’t going to make her. But yeah, we broke up months ago.”

“Oh, good,” Berta said, waving Cynthia away like a gnat. “Because my comadre Olivia, she has a very pretty granddaughter.”

“You mean to date?”

“Of course to date!”

His whole stomach twisted up in a loud, ferocious no. “Tia, thank you, but I can’t right now, with dating.”

“Por que no?”

_Because I’m trying to make a baby with one of my best friends. Because we’re trying to catch yet another meta arch-nemesis. Because even thinking about anyone else would feel like cheating on Caitlin._

_Because I’m going to die._

His auntie thought his silence was a sign of interest, or submission. “Come on, mijito, come by for dinner this week and meet her.”

“Tia, don’t you know any nice boys that Cisco would like?” Yani said innocently.

Berta primmed up her mouth. She accepted that Cisco was bi but only ever tried to set him up with women. 

“I’m too busy,” he said. “For boys or girls. Work is nuts right now.”

“You should get a different job, man,” Hector said. “You’re always so busy.”

“I like my job,” he said. 

Tia Berta waved a finger in the air. “But when is your mami going to hold her grandbaby?”

This time he did drop his soup bowl, which was luckily empty. “What?” Seriously. Tia Berta was a bruja. Or maybe she had vibes, too.

“You’re almost thirty! My sweet brother, tu abuelo, had three babies by the time he was your age.”

“Yeah,” Cisco said. “In 1965.”

“Leave him alone, Tia,” his pop said unexpectedly. “He has time. Ay no!” he yelled at the TV as the goalie missed the ball. “Cabron.” 

Cisco got up, taking his bowl with him. “I’m getting a beer. Pop, you want a beer?”

“Gracias,” he said absently, hunching forward to scowl at the TV.

“Tia?”

“I’ll take a sip off yours,” she said, waving her hand at him. Cisco grinned a little. Tia Berta’s sips were always at least a quarter of the bottle.

Yani said chirpily, “I’ll have one.”

He snorted. “Nice try.”

He got the beers, and more soup, and sat and watched the game. When more cousins and tios dropped by, he kissed cheeks and said hello, catching up on the chisme. He hadn’t always been close to his family, but they’d known him all his life, and they were a part of him in a way that nobody else was or could be. He hoped Caitlin would bring their baby to these family parties sometimes, so they could hear about him from his parents, his cousins, his aunties and uncles.

At halftime, he went outside to get a moment of quiet. Nobody was out there. All his cousins were too big to play outside and it was too cold to hang out here with a beer or even a cigarette. He stuffed his hands in his coat pockets and hunched his shoulders up against the wind. It was nice spending the afternoon this way, but at the same time, his family was pressing in around him, making it hard to breathe. Even the ones he liked.

He felt weirdly loath to go home and mooch around his quiet house. Maybe he should go by Star Labs. Maybe there was crime. 

His phone dinged with Caitlin’s text tone. Huh, had he really made crime happen just by thinking about it?

Then he remembered that Caitlin was going to do the pregnancy test today. He braced himself for another disappointment, but pulled his phone out. There on the screen was one word.

_Positive._

Something like a bolt of lightning shot through his body. He dialed her back with two quick stabs of his forefinger. "Caitlin?" he said. “For real?”

"I ran it twice. It came out both times. I'm pregnant!"

"Oh my god," he breathed, sinking down onto the edge of the trampoline. He said again, "For real? For really real?"

"Yes!" She sounded like she was crying. Or laughing. Or both.

"How do you feel? Barfy? Tired? I'm going to get you vitamins on the way home. What kind of vitamins does a pregnant lady need, anyway?"

"Cisco, please, I'm fine. I'm not feeling any effects yet. It's barely attached to my uterine wall. It's the tiniest imaginable dot.”

“But it’s there.”

“According to my hormone levels. Yes.”

He jumped up. "I'm at my auntie’s. I’m going in there to tell everyone. You want to stay on the line while I do?"

"No!" she said sharply. "Don't tell anybody. Not yet."

It pulled him up short. "What? Why not? My mom’s not going to be weird about us not being married." Some of his aunties, maybe, but not his mom. He was pretty sure.

"That's not what I was thinking. I don't want to tell anyone just yet. In case - you know."

"No, I don't know. Why?" 

"In case I miscarry."

His stomach twisted. "What? Why would you say that? Why would you even think about that?"

"Because it happens," she said, "and it happens a lot, and it especially happens a lot in my family! My mother miscarried four times before she carried me to term. And then there's fetal abnormalities, and ectopic pregnancy and - there are so many things that can go wrong. I want to make sure this pregnancy is viable before we start handing out announcements, okay?" 

"But - " he said.

Her voice softened. "I know you're excited. So am I. But please don't tell anyone."

"How long?”

“The first trimester. That’s twelve weeks.”

It seemed like forever.

“I want to celebrate this,” he said. “Don’t you?”

“Yes.

He heard her joy in her voice. Maybe she didn’t want to make a big thing of it, just in case - but she was happy.

“It might take me a little bit to get out of here. But I’m coming over, okay?”

“I’m at Star Labs right now, but I’m going home soon,” she said. 

“I’ll meet you there,” he told her.

“Okay.” She laughed. “Cisco! We’re pregnant.”

“We’re having a baby,” he said. “Oh my god, Caitlin, we’re having a baby.”

“We are. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, yeah.” He ended the call and sat in a glowing cloud of happiness. Finally. _Finally._

 _Miscarriage_ , she’d said, and it thumped like a rock in the pit of his stomach. He pressed his lips together. "Hang in there, little bean," he murmured. "Stick to Momma, grow big and strong." 

Tilting his head back and closing his eyes, he begged . . . something. God, the universe, whoever was in charge of these things. He begged that he had at least twelve weeks. That would be the end of March, right? "Please. Let my mama be happy for a little while before she has to grieve again."

It felt like almost too much to ask for September, or sometime after. But he did anyway, squeezing his eyes tight and conjuring up the soft beanbag weight of a tiny infant in his arms, the way their fingers curled up like snail shells and how the strange alien scrawniness of the just-born made them feel like feathers, like you could blow them away with a breath. "Let me hold my baby," he whispered. "Let me kiss them and sing to them and smell their hair and lay them down to sleep. Even just once."


	14. Chapter 14

When she got home, Caitlin was a little surprised not to find Cisco already waiting for her. But just as she was putting her shoes in her shoe rack, she heard the whoosh of the breach opening up. She dashed into the living room to see Cisco closing it up behind him. "Cisco!" she squealed, and he turned around just in time to catch her as she threw her arms around him.

He hugged her hard. "I can't believe it," he said into her hair.

"It's true. Cisco, I’m pregnant! We’re going to have a baby!"

He picked her right up off the floor, and she squeaked and clutched his shoulders as he spun her around. She was laughing too by the time he set her down.

He held her shoulders, looking at her hard. “You look - “

“What?”

“You look the same. Aren’t you supposed to be glowing and stuff?”

“It’s early,” she said again. “Trust me, in a few months, I’ll definitely look pregnant.”

“I can’t wait.”

She cupped his face. “I told you it would happen.”

“You did,” he said, kissing her palm. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell anyone?”

“I am,” she said. “I mean, we can tell Barry and Iris, of course. They’ll need to know. But I’d really rather keep it between us for a few months. The first trimester is when eighty percent of - “

“Nuh-uh-uh,” he said. “Don’t say that word again. Don’t call it down on our heads.” He reached out and knocked on the wood of her side table. “Let’s just think good thoughts. Healthy baby, no problems, easy delivery, all those things.”

“I can get behind that.” She put her arms around his neck and hugged him again.

He kissed her once, a smacking happy kiss. Then again, slower.

She kissed him back, leaning into his body, running her hands down his back.

"Is this okay?" he asked her.

"Yes," she told him. Joy was bubbling over in her, and having sex with Cisco was exactly what she wanted right now in the happiest moment of her life. "So okay."

"I mean, it's not going to knock anything loose, is it?"

She raised her brows at him, and he seemed to hear himself. He laughed. "Yeah, okay, come on, I'll race you."

They scrambled to her bedroom and tumbled onto her bed, giggling, fumbling with buttons and ties. She kissed him with smiling lips, and he kissed her back deeply, tenderly.

He touched her softly, as if afraid she would break. “I’m okay,” she murmured, running her fingers through his hair. “I’m okay, I’m okay - mmm. Cisco. Oh. _Oh.”_

* * *

Sometime later, Cisco propped himself up on his elbow and traced circles around her bellybutton. "Tell me what's going on in here," he said. “I know you’ve been reading all about it, you nerd.”

She lay with her eyes closed, a little Mona Lisa smile curving her lips. She looked soft and happy. "You know what's going on in there. Didn't you take sex ed?"

"Hey, Miss Gotham Prep, I went to public school. Sex ed was an afternoon assembly where the principal informed us that doing the sex would lead to teenage pregnancy and AIDS and dying alone in a gutter." He leaned over and kissed her belly, picturing it round with their baby.

She cracked her eye open. "I'm sure you got information from somewhere else."

He grinned up at her. "Getting to second base with Vanessa Carrillo under the bleachers was surprisingly light on the medical facts."

She snorted with laughter. "Okay," she said, letting her eyes drift closed again. "So. I’m four weeks pregnant.”

He blinked. “The test is that sensitive?” He calculated back, trying to remember when they’d had sex four weeks ago. But wait, that wasn’t right, because -

“No,” she said. “That’s how they count it. From the day my last period started.” She put her hand over his. “So sometime in those weeks, your sperm met up with my egg in my fallopian tube, and kaboom.”

“Kaboom?” he echoed. “And you got after me for ka-chunk!”

She laughed again. He’d said she wasn’t glowing but actually she was. She was the most beautiful he’d ever seen her. “It’s true though! In the first twenty-four hours, the fertilized egg divides like crazy. It goes from two cells to hundreds.”

“The Big Bang,” he said, kissing her stomach again.

“On a very micro level, yes. So when that happened, it was called a zygote, and kept going down my fallopian tube, and then sort of burrowed into the wall of my uterus. My endometrium.”

“Zygote,” he echoed. “That’s an awesome word.”

“By now it’s an embryo. It kept dividing the whole time, more and more cells every second. Now they’re sorting themselves into different layers and those layers are going to become different parts of our baby's body."

He pictured a fat little bundle. “How big is it?”

She held up her thumb and forefinger. “Maybe that big. Like the head of a pin.”

“That’s it?’

“It’ll grow. Believe me, it’ll grow.”

“It’s all in there, isn’t it?” he said. “All the genetic code.”

She nodded. “It was all there in your sperm and my egg. Their biological sex, their hair color, their eye color, whether cilantro tastes soapy, whether they have detached earlobes, whether they’re color-blind - “

He looked at her fondly as she gushed about genetics. The mother of his child was a total nerd. “Whether they’re a meta.”

“I think it’s a good chance they will be. Don’t you?”

“Yeah. Cynthia’s whole family are vibers.”

Some of the light in her eyes dimmed. “Mmmmm. Yes. So, a lot of things are set. But we don’t know what they are. We may never know what they are.” Her eyes lit up again with anticipation. “We just have to wait and see who our baby is. Who they become. A lifetime of discoveries.”

Dread swarmed over his heart. He might never see the most basic things, hair and eyes and earlobes. He kissed her stomach one last time and wrapped his arms around her.

She was quiet a few moments, maybe waiting for him to respond. Then she sighed and cuddled into him.

“You sleepy?”

“Mmm,” she murmured. “Yes. I’ve been tired the last few days. I was hoping it was due to pregnancy but I wasn’t sure.”

He reached up and turned off the light. “Then let’s have a nap.”

* * *

They slept for about an hour, and then he got up and poked around in her refrigerator while she snoozed some more. When she smelled the spaghetti he was tossing together, though, she got up and came into the kitchen, looking soft and pretty in yoga pants and a t-shirt and her hair all fuzzy in a sloppy ponytail. She sliced up tomatoes and mozzarella and basil in the fancy salad she liked to do with pasta, and they ate at her table. After they cleaned everything up, she picked a movie and they snuggled on the couch, watching it together, eating popcorn from a giant can that Cecile had given her for Christmas. She liked the cheesy kind and he liked the caramel kind and they squabbled cheerfully over the buttery kind.

He soaked it in, this warmth and quiet togetherness. The three of them, him and her and the tiny spark of new life that they’d both made.

She’d fallen asleep again by the end of the movie, and he nudged her just awake enough to take her to bed. She yawned and snuggled into him. He pulled the covers over them, closed his eyes, and didn’t think about the future at all, just this moment.

He got up in the middle of the night to pee. When he came back to bed, Caitlin shifted and made a soft noise. In the dim light, he saw her eyes blink open. “Hey,” he murmured, pulling the blankets up. “Sorry I woke you. Bathroom.”

“It's okay,” she said sleepily, burrowing into her pillow.

He brushed her hair off her face. “How are you doing?”

Her lips curved up. “You know, every time I ever tried to be happy, something took it away.” She yawned. Her eyes drifted closed. “I think it's going to stick this time.”

With a sigh, she had drifted back to sleep. But Cisco lay watching her face for hours, until the winter-late sun brightened her windows, with a sick feeling in his stomach.

* * *

Caitlin woke up to thin winter sunlight instead of her alarm. Had she set it last night? She wasn't sure, and couldn't bring herself to be concerned about it. Not right now.

She stretched, rested her hand on her abdomen for a moment, and got up to check her phone. The Star Labs group text had a couple of new messages. _Caitlin and I are going to be late this morning,_ Cisco had said. _All ok?_

 **NBD** , Iris had answered. **Quiet**

She smiled at it a little. Cisco had wanted a quiet morning the same as she had. Maybe that meant something. Something good.

She sat on her bed a moment, in the pile of rumpled sheets that showed the marks of two bodies, sleeping, cuddling close. She arranged her words like puzzle pieces, trying to fit them all into just the right place, in just the right way.

But Iris had said it didn’t matter, and she had a point. Cisco’s feelings would be the same no matter what Caitlin said or did. He would either want to be with her or -

Well, anyway, he was the one in charge of his feelings, and no amount of fretting over wording was going to change them. She took a deep breath and touched her abdomen again, as if for good luck.

There were good cooking smells wafting through her apartment. She followed her nose to the kitchen where he was stirring something around in a pan. “Hey,” he said over his shoulder. “Omelets. What do you want in yours?”

She went to the counter and leaned against it, peering into the saute pan. Mushrooms, green pepper, onions, ham. “That all looks good.” It looked delicious, in fact. Her stomach growled audibly.

“Cheese? No cheese?”

“Cheese,” she said decisively, and got a block out of the refrigerator.

She produced a pile of grated cheese while he tended to the fillings, and passed him the eggs when he asked for them. They worked next to each other, occasionally bumping elbows or hips. She looked over at him a few times, but he always seemed to be focused on the food.

When she finished the cheese, she went to a cabinet for a mug. He looked up, concerned. “Whoa, are you having coffee? Caffeine’s a no-no, right?”

“I can have some,” she said, pulling out her electric kettle and filling it up. “Don’t worry, I’m drinking tea.”

They sat down to two perfect omelets a few minutes later. She attacked her breakfast. She was starving. She’d devoured about half of it when she realized he was picking at his. “Aren’t you hungry?”

He looked up with a quick grin. “I’m not the one eating for two.”

She thought, _Still._

She finished her omelet and drank her tea, trying to remember what she’d thought of to say in the bedroom. _Just do it, Caitlin. If you wait to get this perfect, you’ll never do it at all, so just open your mouth and_ say _something._

Cisco took a drink of coffee and set down his mug. “Look, things are going to - “

“Can I ask you -”

They both stopped. She laughed a little. “You go first.”

“No,” he said. “You.” He took a bite of omelet.

“Okay.” She fiddled with her fork a moment. “I’ve enjoyed this. Us. What we’ve been doing. And I was thinking. Do we really have to stop?”

He chewed slowly.

“And I don’t mean just because the sex is good. It is good. But I’ve also liked getting to spend more time with you. Getting closer. So I was thinking - I’d like to to try making this a relationship. You and me.”

He took another sip of coffee.

“It’s a little backwards, with the baby and all. I admit that. But - “ She spread her hands in a what-are-you-going-to-do gesture. “I think we could be an awfully good couple, and I’m hoping you feel the same way.”

He poked at his omelet. “Caitlin,” he said softly.

Her heart dropped into her stomach like a rock into a lake.  
  
“I wish I could.”

“What do you mean?”

“This? Us? I’ve liked it too. But it was never supposed to be forever. You know? You asked me to help you have a baby. Now that you’re pregnant, I’ve held up my end of the bargain.”

“The bargain,” she said faintly.

“I mean, I’m gonna be there for you as much as possible. Believe me. But the most important part for me is done. You have to admit that.”

"That’s how it started,” she said. “A favor, a bargain. But these past few months, all the time we’ve spent together, I - I’ve begun to feel more for you. And to want more. I mean. Haven’t you?" She heard her voice go small. "It seems like you have.”

He shook his head, and the rock in her stomach grew. “I care about you,” he said. “I always have. You know that. But getting together, when we’re having a baby? That’s too much pressure. Right? If we break up, there’s a kid in the mix.”

“We do have several months to figure that -”

He shook his head again. “Hey, no. Seriously? I don’t think it’s a good idea. We always planned to go back to being good friends and co-parents when you got pregnant. Let’s stick to that plan, okay?”

She opened her mouth a few times, and closed it without any words escaping. Her throat had knotted up. _I care about you,_ he said with that compassionate look in his eyes. When she’d told him she felt more than _care,_ more than _friends_ \- she had all but said she loved him.

Finally, she managed to string together a sentence. "That's what - that's what you want?"

“I think it's the way to go," he said.

She felt like she had stones filling her insides. Stomach, lungs, throat, ears, mouth. Turned to stone everywhere.

"I wish it could be different,” he said. “I wish I could give you what you want. But I can’t.”

She managed to close her mouth and looked down at her plate. Suddenly she wanted to vomit up the entire delicious omelet he’d made.

Was this why he’d told Iris they’d be late? Why he’d made breakfast? Had he known what she was going to ask?

He had to have. He was so good at knowing about people, at reading them. He would have seen the way she looked at him, tasted the way she kissed him, felt the way she touched him. He must have known for awhile now that she had feelings for him, and he’d just been waiting for that positive pregnancy test to break it off. No wonder he’d gotten antsy about how long it was taking. He must have expected to sleep with her for a month, maybe two. Not almost four.

She stared at him, wondering why he’d spent yesterday evening and last night with her the way he had, when he didn’t think they should keep this up.

One last hurrah.

Was there anything quite so cruel as kindness like that?

“Caitlin?” he said. "Hey. Say something."

“Okay,” she said in a high, tight voice. “Okay, I understand. Thank you for being honest.” She got up and grabbed her plate, then grabbed his without asking whether he was done or not. He let it go.

She scraped them off into the garbage and stacked them on the counter. He got the pan from the stove and took it to the sink, but she grabbed it out of his hand. “I’ll take care of the dishes. You can go take a shower or something.”

“Look, I’m really -”

If his next word was _sorry,_ she was just going to shatter. “You’re right,” she said. “Too much pressure. A relationship. Let’s just get ready for this baby. Focus on that.” She smiled at him. It felt like there were hooks in the corners of her mouth.

He smiled back, tight and insincere, with misery in his eyes. Well, of course there was. He hated seeing her unhappy. He always tried to make her feel better. But how could he possibly help her feel better when he was the one who’d hurt her?

He turned and headed down the hall toward her bedroom.

She loaded the dishwasher, scrubbed the pan and spatula, and wiped down the counters and table. She focused on getting everything clean and perfect as if nobody had eaten breakfast in this room. Maybe ever.

The shower never turned on like she expected. She was just rinsing the dishcloth out when she heard his step again.

He’d changed into the sweater and the pants he’d been wearing last night. His hair was still dry and frizzed from sleep. He had some bundles of cloth in his hands. After a moment, she recognized the Pokemon balls on a patch of flannel. The pajama pants he kept here. The rest of it looked like some t-shirts and boxers and socks.

He’d emptied out the drawer that she’d set aside for him.

“I’m going to shower at home,” he said quietly. “I think that’ll be . . . better.”

She stood watching him pack the clothes into a paper grocery bag from under her sink. “Cisco?”

“Yeah?”

“Just tell me one thing, okay?”

“What’s that?”

“Are you with Cynthia again?”

His head jerked up. He stared at her, mouth hanging open. “What? No! Of course not. Caitlin, I _slept_ with you last night.”

“She seems like the kind of person who’d be understanding about that.” Cynthia was cool and sophisticated and open-minded and probably gave Cisco hall passes, which was a cool, sophisticated, open-minded thing to do.

He set the grocery sack down and came to take her hands. “She’s not, actually,” he said. “And more importantly, you’re not. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Are you going to? Get back together with her. Now that we -”

“No,” he said. “I promise I’m not back with Cynthia and I’m not planning to be. She’s dating someone else, actually. That’s one of the things we talked about the other day when I went to see her. She’s moved on. We both have.”

She felt her lip tremble and bit into it. No. She wasn’t going to be like this. She wasn’t going to grab his shirt and whimper, _Then move on to me._

She pulled her hands out of his. “Okay,” she said. “I just wanted to know.”

“I didn’t turn you down because of Cynthia,” he said.

“Yes, I understand that,” she said. “I’ll see you at work, okay?”

“Okay,” he said. “See you there.”

She was very proud of herself. She waited until he was gone, until she’d pulled off her pajamas and gotten in the shower and stood for a moment with the hot water streaming down over her body, to burst into tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And on that note . . . 
> 
> I'm taking a break from this story over the holidays, because I have a few more pressing projects, not just fanfic-related. But rest assured, this will pick up again sometime in January. Happy holidays, y'all!
> 
> Muahahhahaaha.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Voila, I return! My posting on this might be a little more irregular from this point, because I've got a few other projects going and also I started a new position at work so that's eating some of my brain. But I hope you're happy with it. :)

Caitlin moved through the rest of the day in a numb haze. Luckily, someone decided to rob a bank, so she was able to focus on something besides Cisco and her broken heart.

_Don’t be so dramatic,_ she scolded herself. _You weren’t even dating. Cisco didn’t break your heart._

“Caitlin?” Barry yelled over the comms, and she snapped to attention.

“Yes! Yes. Go by the river, he’s not going to be able to move so fast.”

Iris gave her a funny look, but she focused on their meta and avoided her friend’s eyes. She avoided Cisco’s eyes, too. Not that he was looking at her very much. He’d left her alone all day, and she didn’t know if that was because he knew she needed the solitude or he didn’t want to talk to her either.

She felt too sick to her stomach and too exhausted to do anything but crawl into bed when she got home that night and go immediately to sleep.

She slept clear through to her alarm the next morning, and ended up with a drive-thru breakfast. Normally she tried to eat better than that, but cheap, greasy calories were better than none at all. She was eating for two now. And the breakfast sandwiches tasted amazing.

When she got in, still sucking grease off her fingers, Iris caught her eye. "Hey, can I steal you for a moment? I need an update on that thing we've been talking about."

_What thing?_ Caitlin thought, but smiled brightly and said, "Of course!" She hit the lights in her lab. "So," she said, grabbing a wet wipe for her hands. "Um. The thing."

"The thing that is made up so I can get you alone to talk to you," Iris said gently.

". . . that thing," Caitlin said.

"You okay?"

"Of cou - "

Iris said, "Caitlin," very firmly, and she stopped.

"No," she whispered a moment later, sinking into her desk chair.

Iris sat down in her extra chair. "I thought you seemed off yesterday. Cisco too. What happened? Did you talk to him?”

Caitlin nodded, feeling her chin wobble.

“Oh my god,” Iris said. “You’re kidding. He -”

“He doesn’t want - “ Her voice cracked. “He doesn’t want to be with me.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. You guys were so snuggly at the Christmas party. What happened?"

"I thought so too!" Caitlin burst out. "I thought - " Her face was wet, somehow. She wiped it impatiently. “But he doesn’t.”

Iris shook her head, looking baffled. “Okay, wait, tell me everything. Is it possible you misinterpreted? Jumped to conclusions?”

“No,” she said. “No, I didn’t. We had a very honest conversation. It was yesterday morning. He made breakfast and I -” She gripped her knees. "I asked him if he wanted to make our relationship . . . a relationship. A romantic one. And he said no."

Iris blinked. "He said . . . no."

"He didn't think it was a good idea and he c-couldn't give me what I wanted so it was better if we didn't." She bit her lip.

"That doesn't make any sense," Iris said. "Cisco cares about you so much. I've always thought he was halfway in love with you, if not more."

Her stomach lurched. She pressed her hand to it. "I guess you're wrong about that.”

Iris's brow furrowed. "Do you think he's getting back together with Cynthia?"

"He said he wasn't," Caitlin said.

Iris looked at her doubtfully.

"I believe him," she insisted. "I guess she's with someone else now." She hugged herself. "In a way that's worse, you know? If he was getting back together with his ex, then I could tell myself he loved her more. But that’s not it.”

“He cares about you.”

“I know. Just not the way I want him to.”

“I’m so sorry,” Iris said, rolling her chair over and wrapping Caitlin in a hug. “Oh, honey. This is awful.”

She rested her head against Iris’s shoulder and let herself cry a little. Not much. It wasn’t like she really had any right to be heartbroken. This was just a relationship that had never quite gotten off the ground.

Iris patted her hair until she breathed evenly again. She sniffed one last time and straightened up. “Thank you.”

“Of course. So - I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want. What does this mean for your project?” Iris waved at her midsection.

“Oh,” Caitlin said, resting her hand on her abdomen. “I forgot you didn’t know. I took a blood test on New Year’s Day. It was positive. I’m pregnant.”

“Oh my god!  Congratulations!” Iris hugged her again, and Caitlin hugged her back this time, eyes stinging. “That’s amazing!”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“Hey,” Iris said. “Your pregnancy. It’s totally your call who you tell. How are you feeling?”

She managed to laugh. “Like a truck hit me. I’m so tired. And hungry. You know I ate four sausage mcmuffins for breakfast?”

“Didn’t you call them disgusting grease bombs last month?”

“I absolutely did, and they were delicious.”

“Sounds like the baby’s already inherited Cisco’s taste.” Iris paused. “Wait - does Cisco know?”

“He was the first person I told. New Year’s Day.”

“He learned you were pregnant and dumped you?”

“Not exactly. I texted him when the test came back, and he called me right away, and then he came over that same night. We were both so happy. We - um -” She ducked her head. “We celebrated.”

Iris blinked. “I’m guessing you don’t mean with a cake.”

Caitlin shook her head. “We spent the evening together. He slept over.”

Iris frowned. “And then he made you breakfast and dumped you.”

“He didn’t dump me,” Caitlin said. “You can’t dump someone you’re not dating.”

“You can, actually,” Iris said. “But seriously, Caitlin, that doesn’t make sense.”

“Of course it does. It wasn’t what we agreed on, and he didn’t want to change our relationship. He’s still happy about the baby.”

Iris frowned, then shook her head. “Do you need to take some time off?”

Caitlin reached to turn on her computer. “What for? I told you, I’m feeling fine. Really tired, but fine.”

“To get a little space,” Iris said. “From Cisco.”

“No,” Caitlin said. “No, I don’t hate him or anything.”

“I never said you did. But it’s got to hurt, seeing him every day. Just take some days, tell him you don’t want to see him - “

“I’m not going to do that. I don’t want to punish him.”

“Just yourself?”

“I’m not punishing myself, either! Look, Iris, I just want things to go back to the way they were before this fall.”

“Except that you’re pregnant now.”

“Okay, besides that. When Cisco and I started this thing, we agreed to be friends after it was over. I want to do that.”

“Caitlin -”

Tears boiled up in her throat. “Please, I don’t want to wallow right now. I don’t want to spend any time being sad. Not when I’m having a baby. I want things to be good and happy and normal.”

“As normal as we get,” Iris noted, and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Okay. Okay, it’s your call. We’ll act like you two just flipped a switch and went back to friends, if that’s what you want.”

“I do. I really do.”

Iris sighed and got up. “Is it okay if I mention the baby to Barry? Or do you want to wait and make a grand announcement?”

“Um - “ Caitlin wiped her eyes. “No, go ahead.” She’d pictured herself and Cisco, hand-in-hand, making this announcement to the whole team along with the news that they were a couple now. Champagne popped, hugs given, smug proclamations that they’d always known it. But that wasn’t going to go happen. “It’s fine, tell Barry. He should know. Can you do me a favor, though?”

“Sure.”

“Don’t treat Cisco any differently, please. I’m struggling with this, but he never lied to me, he was never dishonest. We just want different things, that’s all. Don’t be mad at him.”

“I’ll try.”

* * *

Iris left Caitlin in her lab and went out into the cortex, still uneasy over the promise she’d given. Halfway to the team kitchen, she ran into Cisco. “Hey,” he said, saluting her with his mug of coffee. “Morning. Coffee’s on.”

“Thanks,” she said very evenly. “Good morning.”

He paused and looked at her hard. “Everything okay?”

She remembered her promise to Caitlin. “Everything’s fine.”

“Uh . . . huh,” he said slowly. “Okay. Is Caitlin here yet? I had a question for her.”

Oh, shit. Caitlin had still looked fragile, her lashes still damp with tears. If she knew the other woman, she needed a good ten minutes of complete quiet and solitude to put her armor back on. “Yes, but I think she’s still getting settled in.”

“Well, it’s not a big question.” He swung past her, heading for the cortex and Caitlin’s lab.

“Actually, she, um.” Think, Iris, think. “I think she might actually be having a touch of morning sickness.”

He whipped around. “Really? She said she’d -” He broke off. “She told you.”

“Yeah.” Iris mustered up a smile. “Congratulations, Papa.”

“Thanks,” he said. His eyes were soft and his smile enormous. “It’s awesome. I’m so fucking over the moon here. You don’t even know.” The smile dissolved. “But, morning sickness? Was she sort of green or was she actually barfing?”

“Couldn’t say,” Iris said. “She just didn’t look a hundred percent. Not terrible,” she added hastily, regretting that she’d picked morning sickness. Nothing was more certain to make Cisco want to rush to Caitlin’s side than a hint that she needed TLC. “She, ah, she wasn’t doubled over or anything. Just feeling not-great. I think she needs some peace and quiet right now to let her stomach settle.”

“I should get her something,” he said. “Like. What helps?”

“You’re asking me? I’ve never been pregnant.”

“Toast? Banana? What’ve we got in the kitchen?”

“Ginger ale,” Iris said. “Have we got any?” She knew they didn’t. Cisco would have to go out somewhere for it. Plus, it was supposed to be good for nausea, so she wasn’t actually lying.

“Ginger ale!” he yelped, eyes lighting up like Iris had suggested the cure for cancer. “Perfect! Hang on, we don’t have any. I’m running out for some, okay?”

“Sure,” she said.

“Hey, if she’s feeling really bad, I’m taking her home. Just a heads-up.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, watching him breach away. He was still holding the coffee cup. That would look pretty funny at the grocery store.

She sighed, feeling most of her anger wither and die. Cisco looked genuinely happy about the baby, and genuinely worried about Caitlin.

Maybe he’d seen Cynthia last week and realized he wasn’t all the way over her, and wasn’t ready to be with Caitlin until he was.

Maybe the idea of moving their loose and easy relationship into a committed one had been too much seriousness on top of the news that he was going to be a father.

Maybe, like Caitlin had said, he was perfectly happy to sleep with her, be cuddly and close for months, make a baby with her, but not to be any more serious than that.

But, God. It didn’t make sense.

* * *

She went down to the speed lab and found Barry running laps to burn off some of his morning fidgets. He halted in front of her, hair adorably wind-tossed, smelling ozony. “Hey, you okay? You look like something’s wrong.”

“Yeah, sure,” she said. “I’m okay. I just -” She struggled for a moment, trying to think how much to tell. But Caitlin had given her the go-ahead. “Well, first of all, Caitlin’s pregnant.”

“Ugh, finally!” Barry said.

Iris tilted her head. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for them,” he said. “They’re my friends and they both wanted it so bad. It just took forever. Right? Didn’t it take forever?”

“A few months.”

“Right. It was basically all they thought about. Now that’s done, maybe we can all focus again.” He saw the look on her face. “What now?”

“Are you going to say that to them?”

“Of course not,” he said. “But it’s such a relief to hear they’re not going to be going home early all the time anymore.”

Iris could think of more than a few times in the past few months that both Caitlin and Cisco had stayed late into the night, when she’d known they would have rather been at home, baby-making. But she let it drop. Her husband’s perspective could get a little skewed sometimes, but it was just because he was so focused on the good of Central City.

He grinned at her, suddenly optimistic. “You know, now that’s over with, we can probably catch Cicada in no time.”

“It’s not actually over with,” Iris said. “Remember biology? We’ve got nine months yet, and then after that, they’ll have an infant.”

“And I’ll be there at the hospital and throwing the baby shower and standing as godfather, I swear. We just have to catch Cicada first.”

“Hmmm,” she said, looking away.

He peered at her. “Babe, are you thinking you want to have a baby too?”

“God, no,” she said. “No, I’m happy leaving that in the future. I promise. If I change my mind, you’ll be the first to know, and we’ll figure it out together.”

“Okay,” he said. “So - what is it?”

She opened her mouth to tell him the rest of it - Cisco breaking up with Caitlin, her being upset, the way it didn’t make sense - and hesitated. “Just - uh. Just thinking about how we need to make sure Caitlin takes care of herself now.”

“Oh, yeah,” Barry said. “Morning sickness, right?” He made a grossed-out face. He’d never been able to handle vomit very well.

“I was thinking more along the lines of making sure she doesn’t overextend herself. She has a habit of that.” All-nighters, skipping meals, working herself cross-eyed - none of that could possibly be good for a developing fetus.

“Well, we all do,” Barry said. “We all care about Central City.”

“Of course we do. But we have to care about each other, too.”

He put his hands on her shoulders and looked deep into her eyes. “I care about you more than anybody else on this planet, and I always have.”

_I wasn’t talking about me,_ she wanted to say. But Barry Allen could always melt her with that expression. So she smiled, kissed him, and said, “I never once doubted that, babe.”

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *edges in* *waves awkwardly* Hi everyone. So remember how I was going to post this all regularly and stuff after the new year? Various RL things did a number on my energy for this story. Things have settled down now and hopefully I am back to working on this steadily, but I'm not going to promise a schedule just yet. Hope this is worth the wait.

For the first two weeks of January, Cisco didn’t have the graveyard dream once.

He would have liked to think that was because it had disappeared, but it probably had more to do with the way he wasn’t sleeping more than a few hours in a night. Instead, he lay awake, staring at the ceiling, thinking about Caitlin.

He missed her warmth in the bed next to him. He missed the way she would smile just before she kissed him. He kept seeing the way her face had gone flat and blank when he’d said _Let’s stick to the plan, okay?_

It was like a switch had been flipped between them. Not that she was rude or cold. She replied to his texts and answered the phone when he called. She ate the meals he brought and smiled at his jokes.

But it felt like there was a canyon between them, carving deeper every day.

He told himself to back off. He’d hurt her. She was hiding it now, but he knew her. It was still there.

And she kind of had a lot on her plate now. Besides the Cicada, ramping up his murderous ways, pregnancy seemed to have hit Caitlin like an asteroid dive-bombing the Mesozoic.

She looked so tired all the time. She came in with dark circles under her eyes, she moved with less energy and spark, and she was almost always the first person to go home. He suspected she was falling right into bed when she did, because twice when he was going to drop by after work with dinner or a book or something he thought she'd like, his texts went unanswered and unread. Three times, he’d found her dozing over her keyboard, but she’d jerked awake and said, “Just waiting on some tests!” ignoring the way the timer had been going off for ten minutes almost right in her ear.

He wanted to take her home, crawl in bed with her, and take a nap together the way they had on New Year's Day.

No, this was what needed to happen. He had to be her friend and support her, while somehow still not pouring salt into the wound he’d made. Somehow.

It didn’t help that he was hurting, too. Hurting seemed like too small a word for the emptiness inside him.

But this was the best thing. When it finally happened, it was better for her if she was just losing a friend, not another partner.

He’d gone with her to the appointments and sat there taking notes and listening to them talk about morning sickness and breast soreness and all sorts of weirdly invasive topics. He'd crawled the Internet, reading pregnancy websites and looking at their forums. (Which, holy shit. Places still had _forums._ Was it 2002?) But it all seemed to be meant for moms who talked about their “little one” and their “treasure” and their “gift from God.”

Straight moms at that, although there were a few women who mentioned their female partners amongst the horror stories of epic pregnancy constipation and crazy-ass mothers-in-law. He tried a few LGBT sites and found parenting and pregnancy topics on there. But it was a lot of discussion of donor sperm and surrogates and the best places to adopt from, and as usual on those kind of sites, very little recognition that bi had a place under the rainbow umbrella. So he went back to the straight mommies.

He actually thought about signing up for one of the sites, because there was usually a single board or topic for dads. But how would he introduce himself?

_Daddy-to-be here with my friend, who's at 5 weeks with our little angel. She’s really tired all the time and I don't know how to be there for her. Also I’m worried I’m going to die before she delivers._

Yeah, no.

Weirdly enough, the most comforting one he found was a site for active-duty military parents, where the non-gestating partner (usually dads) were deployed or might be deployed, and they talked about missing the big moments - “I just wish I could feel the baby move in real life and not just be watching over Skype while my wife tells me about it” one guy wrote wistfully - and worried that they wouldn’t make it home to see their kid. But even then, it was a possibility, not a certainty, and he closed down the window without clicking the “submit” button on the sign-up page.

The end felt a lot closer this side of New Year’s. He knew intellectually that was an illusion. It was only one day closer today than it had been yesterday. But somehow being in the year he’d seen on the tombstone made the cloud hang heavier over his head.

On nights he wasn’t thinking about Caitlin, he lay wondering how it would happen. Would he get the flu? Would he try to share the road with a semi truck full of strawberry-guava-flavored Diet Coke? Would a meta attack him? Would he slip in the shower? Would he get a thousand paper cuts and bleed to death trying to do his taxes?

Morbid.

He considered telling someone a hundred times a day. But Barry would call a team meeting and announce it and immediately start making plans to circumvent destiny. It would become all anybody talked about or thought about, and he would have no escape.

Iris would probably understand the best. She’d been through it. But even if she didn’t tell Barry right away - and he thought she wouldn’t, if he asked - she would urge him to tell Caitlin. _She deserves to know,_ he could almost hear her saying. _She’s having your child, she’s your best friend. She should know if anyone should._

And he’d already hurt Caitlin. He couldn’t imagine looking her in the eyes and telling her that he wasn’t going to be around to see their baby grow up. That she was going to have to do it all on her own. He didn’t want to see her dreading the day along with him.

In the deepest depths of 2 am, he could admit to himself that he didn’t want to say anything because if someone else knew - someone besides Cynthia, someone who actually in this dimension and was part of his everyday life - it would be real.

* * *

All that midnight staring at the ceiling took its toll on Cisco. He yawned into his morning Americano, with cream and sugar and an extra shot because he needed all the caffeine his system could take.

Barry eyed him. “Up late gaming?”

“Crib reviews,” he mumbled into his cup. “Enough to curl your hair. You know there’s been kids who died because of shitty cribs?” It sent a spear of ice down his spine.

“I’ve heard that,” Iris said. “But you’ve got like eight months to find the best one.”

“I know,” he mumbled, and took another deep gulp of coffee. “I just - mmf.”

“Get some more coffee,” Barry advised. “We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us.”

Once he’d hit the bottom of his cup, he felt a little more awake - enough to read the reports of the Cicada’s ramped-up activity. “This ain’t good,” he said.

Barry nodded grimly. “Where’s Caitlin?” he said, looking at the door. “We need some medical feedback.”

She came in a few minutes later, clutching a travel mug with a tea bag fluttering off the side, looking about as alert as Cisco had felt at the beginning of his cup of coffee. “Hi everyone,” she said. “Sorry.”

“Oh, good, you’re here,” Barry said. “Did you get what I sent you? The coroner’s report? How fast can you - ”

She sank into her chair and set the tea down. “I took a Lyft and read it on the way over. I’ve got some - “ She stopped and yawned a jaw-cracking yawn. “Sorry. I’ve got some thoughts.”

They talked about Cicada’s latest victim for about an hour. Cisco kept an eye on Caitlin throughout the conversation. While she didn’t gesture as animatedly as she used to, and she slouched in her chair instead of sitting up poker straight like she usually did, her insights were well-reasoned and intelligent as always and her eyes were mostly alert.

Still, he glanced at his phone, calculating which of her favorite places to order lunch from.

She left the room for a moment, and when she came back, she had a fresh tea. He frowned. “Caitlin?”

“Mmm,” she said, blowing into her mug.

"How many of those have you had?"

Caitlin slammed the mug onto the table so hard that tea sloshed out. "That's it," she said.

"What? What do you mean?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could tell Barry and Iris were staring, mouths hanging open.

She jammed her hands onto her hips. "Cisco, what does M.D. stand for?"

"Uh - what?"

Her eyes crackled with rage. "It's a simple question. What does M.D. stand for?"

"Medical . . . doctor . . . ?"

"Exactly,” she growled, advancing on him. “Medical doctor. I went to school for a number of years to get those two little letters after my name. But you know what? Even if I hadn't, I would be able to keep track of the amount of caffeine I've ingested, without you nagging me every time I take a sip. I could remember to take my prenatal vitamins every morning without you texting me a reminder. I could handle my own diet without you bringing me lunch every day. I could get enough sleep without you telling me to go take a nap. You need to _lay off!"_

His butt hit the console, and for a hot moment, he considered climbing backwards up onto it to save himself from her wrath. "I'm just - " he said weakly. "I'm trying - Dr. Harris said - "

She jabbed her finger into the air between them. "I know what she said. I was there, I was listening, and I took home all the paperwork. I didn't suddenly turn into a complete idiot just because I'm pregnant, and you need to stop acting like I did!"

She turned and stormed out of the cortex.

Cisco blinked a few times, feeling like he'd been run over by a truck.

Iris said, "I - um. I'm going to go check on her." She circled around the console, giving Cisco a cautious and sympathetic look, and headed into the hallway.

Cisco looked up at Barry, who looked as shell shocked as he felt. "Wow," he said.  

Barry let out his breath in a soundless whistle. "Hormones, huh?"

* * *

When she heard the footstep, Caitlin said, "I know how much caffeine I'm ingesting. I'm well within the recommended dosage."

"That's what that was all about? Really?”

She turned to see Iris standing, arms folded, in the doorway.

“It’s about him treating me like an idiot child,” Caitlin said. “He texts me reminders about my vitamins, he brings me lunch and dinner and breakfast if I’d let him, he - “

“I know,” Iris said. “I heard you yelling at him. Is it really that bad?”

For an answer, Caitlin pulled out her phone, opened up the text app, and held it out.

Iris read the texts rolling down the screen. She scrolled up and read a few more. Then she set it down. “Wow. That’s obnoxious, all right.”

“Mhm,” Caitlin said. “Idiot. Child.” She fumed.

Tears boiled up in her throat.

She put her hands over her face. “And I can’t seem to get any _air,”_ she wailed into her hands. “He’s just, he’s just there, and he won’t leave me alone. Ever. And he’s so kind, and I hate it, and I want to hate _him,_ and I can’t.” The tears burst out, a scalding-hot waterfall spilling down her cheeks.

“Yep,” she thought she heard Iris mutter through her sobs. The other woman’s arms came around her.

It hurt more every day. She’d thought these feelings would subside after a time. That she would be able to see Cisco as just her friend again soon. After all, they'd been friends for so long before this. But whenever she so much as saw his name pop up on her phone, it was like she was hearing him say it again: _I wish I could give you what you want. But I can’t._

She sobbed harder.

When the storm of tears had subsided, she found herself slumped into Iris’s side. Her friend had a box of tissues on her lap, and silently pulled one from the box and held it out.

Caitlin wiped her eyes and blew her nose and tried to clean her face. It took several tissues. She was a mess.

Iris said, “Have you ever had a breakup quite like this?”

“We didn’t break up,” she said automatically.

“You’ve been saying that for the past two weeks. It’s BS.”

“It’s not,” Caitlin said. “Calling it a breakup is inaccurate.We weren’t dating, we weren’t - “

“You were together. Whatever you called it, you were together, and now you’re not, and you’re telling yourself it wasn’t a breakup to keep it from hurting so much. Right?”

After a long moment, she nodded.

“And how’s that working out for you?”

“Terribly-y-y-y,” she wailed, breaking down again.

When she’d cried herself out again, she sat tearing a soggy Kleenex to pieces while Iris patted her back. “I am trying to get over him,” she said. “Every day, I tell myself it’s going to be better tomorrow. I mean, isn’t that the way it works? It hurts a lot at the beginning, and then it hurts a little less, and a little less, until one day eventually it doesn’t hurt at all.”

“I take it that it hasn’t been working like that?”

She shook her head. “I see him every day. And every day it hurts just as much.” She wiped her face. Her makeup was definitely shot. “When you first offered to give me some space, I said I didn’t need it, but I do.”

Iris’s hand paused. “Are you planning to leave?”

She looked up. “No.”

“Are you sure?”

It was tempting. God, was it tempting. Just to go away somewhere, without him there, whether it was texting her reminders or bringing her food or even just checking in on her, face anxious and hopeful. Somewhere she could sleep, and eat - her appetite was either non-existent or ravenous, nowhere in between. Someplace she could just settle into being pregnant, and come to terms with the fact that the father of her child didn’t want to be with her.

But she shook her head. “I know I’ve run away in the past,” she said. “And I know it didn’t fix anything. I’m not leaving.”

Iris let out a little sigh of relief. “You do need that space, though.”

“I really do.”

"If I could help you get it, I would. I’d send one of you to Star City or to the Legends crew for a few weeks. But the way the Cicada's ramping up right now, that's impossible. Barry would never go for it. We all need to be here and we all need to be on our game.”

“I know.” It was part of the reason she hadn’t already packed her bags.

“So you need to talk to him. Before you explode again."

“I’m sorry,” Caitlin said. “That was awful, wasn’t it?”

“Honestly? I can’t blame you. He’s been hovering over you so much, it’s annoyed _me._ And it wasn’t in the middle of a situation, so no harm done. But you need to get a handle on it.”

She nodded in silent agreement, and Iris squeezed her shoulder.

“And something else. How tired are you, really?”

“I can manage,” Caitlin said. “It’s - I’m trying to get used to less caffeine, and I keep waking up at strange hours -”

“I didn’t ask why, I said how much. Like, on a scale of one to ten, one being wide awake and ten being about to fall asleep right now, what's your daily average?”

Caitlin met her eyes. “About a twenty-four.”

Iris blinked. “Okay. Then you need to stop making yourself get here every morning at nine o’clock on the button. Come in when you’re ready. Leave when you’re tired.”

“It’s not going to be that easy. Things are always happening.”

“Right, so get in the habit as soon as you can. You’re pissed off at Cisco for trying to take care of you, are _you_ taking care of you?”

“This is temporary,” Caitlin said. “All the literature says I should start to feel better by the second trimester.”

“Which will be when, exactly?”

“March. Ish.”

“That’s a long time to just power through. Give yourself a break. You’re only human - well, meta-human - “

Caitlin smiled involuntarily at that.

“And your body is doing a job of work right now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Don’t worry, I’ll make it okay with Barry. Just take care of yourself.”

She nodded. “I’ll put a cot in my office,” she said. “I think if I can nap during the day, I’ll do better.”

“Okay. And?"

"And I'll talk to Cisco."

* * *

Somehow, Cisco heard the tiny knock over the spit and hiss of his welder. He shut it off and pushed his goggles up to see Caitlin standing in the doorway of his lab. "Hey," he said.

"Hi."

"Hi," he echoed, and remembered he'd already greeted her.

Shit. He hated this. He hated being awkward around Caitlin, especially after the way they'd been together all last fall, when they'd been happy and companionable and fun and sexy together.

_This was your choice,_ he reminded himself. _This is better for her._

"So," he said.

"So," she echoed, and winced. Clearly, she was feeling the awkward too. She wiped her hands down her skirt. “I’m sorry I shouted at you.”

“No,” he said, setting the welder down. “No, no, you deserved the yell. I guess I’m being kind of overbearing, aren’t I?”

“You really don’t have to text me every morning,” she said. “I can remember to take my vitamins without it.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I guess so. You’re a grown woman and you take care of yourself probably better than I do.” He pushed his hands into his back pockets. “You want me to stop?”

After a moment, she nodded. “Not just the texting.”

He swallowed. “Everything,” he said. “Everything you yelled at me about.”

“I do appreciate the sentiment behind it,” she said. “I know you’re trying to help.”

“I’m trying to be there for you. Like I said I would.”

“I know. And again, I appreciate it. But I -” She pressed her lips together so hard they went momentarily white. “I don’t need you to do all that. And I would rather you didn’t.”

His chest hurt. “Okay,” he said.

He expected her to leave after that, but she stayed hovering in his doorway, picking at her fingernails as if she wanted to say something more but couldn’t find the words.

He cast around for something to say. "You know what, our show is back. New episode the other day. So, what do you think? Want to come over and stream a full hour of total cheese, minus commercial breaks? It would be good for you. Relaxing."

"I don't think that would be a good idea."

"I'm not angling to have sex with you again," he said sharply, and flinched. He'd meant, he wasn't trying to be some fuckboy who broke up with a girl and then acted like the sex would continue because why not.

But it had come out like, _I don't even want to have sex with you now, ew, gross._ Which wasn't what he'd meant at all.

He missed sex with her. He missed the kissing, too. The snuggling and the laughing and meals and in-jokes and just the quiet time together that wasn't all wrapped up in the good of Central City.

"I mean - Just. As friends. We were going to go back to being friends, right? So this is a friend thing. Like we did before."

She was already shaking her head. "Cisco, no."

Her voice shook and it hit him somewhere right in his chest, that he was upsetting her. He dialed it back. Literally; he took a little step back. "Okay," he said. "That's - okay. It's all right. I just thought - but it's all right.”

“Cisco,” she said in a very small voice.

"Yeah?"

She'd stopped picking at her nails and had her hands clenched in her skirt. "Can you do something for me?"

"Anything. Sure. What do you need?"

"Leave me alone."

If the tremor in her voice had hit him in the chest, her words reached right in and smashed his heart against his ribs. "What?"

"I'll be able to be your friend again, soon, I hope," she said. "But right now, I need some space."

"Fuck," he said. "You're going to leave again, aren't you?"

“No.”

"Really? Because that's what you said when you took the job at Mercury. And something like that after Killer Frost came out, when you ran away to the Coyote Ugly bar and working for Amunet Black." Panic thrashed in his stomach like a maddened octopus. If she left, he might not ever see her again before -

"No," she said firmly. "I'm not leaving Star Labs. It's a bad coping mechanism." She bit her lip. "I'm just struggling with some feelings right now and I can't be the way we were before September.”

He opened his mouth.

“I am staying here and I'll be able to work with you. But outside work, I just need to go no-contact. No texting, no dinners out, no TV nights.”

“What, ever?” Now his voice shook.

“Just for a little while. Until I’m better at this."

He stared at the floor. God, he was an asshole. Sure, he wasn't pushing for sex, but he was pushing for all the other aspects of a relationship, after he'd told her he didn't want one. "Okay," he said. "But you're staying?"

“I’m staying. I am.”

“All right. So I’ll give you space. That’s what you need, so - And I’ll save the show. We can catch up later, when you’re in a better place.”

“Go ahead and watch it,” she said. “I don’t mind. I’ll catch up on my own.”

“Sure,” he said in a leaden voice. “Right. Okay.”

“Thank you,” she said, and turned to go.

“Yeah,” he said to her retreating back.


	17. Chapter 17

For once, Cisco wanted mayhem. Some kind of attack, some of wild and crazy behavior that would take up all their time and energy and make it so he couldn't think about Caitlin asking him to leave her alone.

But Cicada was quiet that day, and the rest of Central City's criminal underworld was quieter. He sat in his lab disassembling and reassembling the same machine over and over until the clock said a time that would be reasonable for him to go home.

"Already?" Barry said, and Iris said, "See you tomorrow, Cisco," and Caitlin didn't say anything because she'd already gone.

He breached only partway home and walked the rest of the way, through the crowded city streets, with the cheerful, familiar buzz of city noise. It blurred together in his ears like the roar of the sea.

He stopped in a bodega just because he didn't want to go home yet, but he drifted around the tiny space so long that the abuela at the front counter called out, "Oye, you gonna buy something or just look at my store todo el noche?"

He blinked and found himself in front of the vodka section. He grabbed a bottle almost at random and took it to the counter.

She looked at the bottle, and then at him. "You putting that on an empty stomach, mijo?"

He shrugged.

"Y la comida," she commanded. "Don't give yourself the alcohol poisoning." She crossed her arms and scowled at him. Clearly she wasn't going to touch the cash register until he got something solid to add to his order.

He looked around and grabbed a bag of chicharrones, a banana, and a frozen pizza at random. She snorted a little but probably recognized that was the best he was going to do.

"Hope you get over them," she said, ringing him up.

"What?" he said, the first words he'd spoken for an hour. "Who?"

"Whoever broke your heart."

* * *

The words echoed in his ears for the rest of the walk home, as the bag swung against his leg and the bitter wind chapped his cheeks. He knew he could step around a corner and breach quickly home into warmth, but he welcomed the discomfort.

_Whoever broke your heart._

He made a good faith effort at taking care of himself, putting the pizza in the oven and peeling the banana. But after a bite or two, he dropped it on the table and twisted the vodka bottle open. He did manage to get down a shot glass, because he wasn’t at the drinking-straight-from-the-bottle stage yet.

After two shots, he thought he might be getting close, though.

"You," he said, drunkenly toasting himself in the blank TV screen. "You dumbfuck. You moron."

He knocked back the vodka and poured himself another.

"No problem," he said. "NBD! Your bestie asks you to help her have a baby and you're like this isn't going to change anything. You can sleep with her and have your favorite TV show together and cook lasagna together and see how she looks in the morning with her head all fuzzy and no makeup and how she makes sure to buy you coffee and stock your shampoo in her bathroom, and you honestly thought you weren't going to fall in love with her."

He stared into the shot glass.

“At the worst possible time,” he added. “Because you fucking idiot, you’re going to die.”

If he didn’t have this death vibe hanging over him, he could call her up right now. _Hey,_ he would say, all soft. _Hi, I wanted to hear your voice. I wanted to say I’m so sorry for turning you down, and I changed my mind, because I want to be with you. Honestly, I can't think of anything I want more._

Or that morning of the second, when she looked at him with those big, soft, hopeful eyes and said _I think we could be an awfully good couple, and I’m hoping you feel the same way,_ he could have reached across the table and grabbed her hand.

_I do,_ he would've said. _We could make an amazing couple. We already do._ He would have gotten to see her face light up. He could have gone into Star Labs with her, way later in the day than they had, and say that they were in love and having a baby together, instead of the way it had happened, where everyone sort of learned eventually.

Hell, he could have rolled over in bed sometimes in December, November, October even and whispered, _Hey, this is good. We’re really good together. You want to try out being an us?_

Maybe she would have said _yes_ right away, or maybe she would have taken some time to think about it. Actually, it was Caitlin, so she definitely would have taken some time to think about it, but eventually she wold have come to him and kissed him, so so sweetly, and said, _yes, let’s do it, let’s be an us, let’s be a family even before this baby gets here._

All these roads leading to happiness and family and love and life. And he was stuck on the one that lead only to death.

"Dumbfuck," he whispered, and drank his shot of vodka in one gulp.

He let his spinning head drop back to the back of the couch, and felt the shot glass slide out of his fingers to shatter on the floor. A sharp sting in his bare foot made him blink a few times. He stuck his leg out. There was a nick, seeping blood, on the top of his foot.

"This," he said, pointing at it for the benefit of absolutely nobody. "This is how I die. Lockjaw. Sepsis. Because I was getting drunk and crying over my stupid broken heart.”

Whoever broke his heart?

"Dipshit," he said. “It was you. You broke your heart."

He reached out and grabbed the vodka, and took a hit straight from the bottle.

* * *

Sometime in the beginning of February, Barry cornered him in his lab. "What's with you lately?"

"What?" Cisco growled, adjusting his goggles. He wasn't welding, but he figured they were less obvious than sunglasses.

God, his head was killing him.

“Are you sick?”

“No.”

“Because you look like it.”

“Look, I’m not sick, it’s just the buttfuck depths of winter. It’s cold, it’s dark, and the holidays are way over. I have that Seasonal Affective Disorder or something.”

“Doesn’t Caitlin have one of those light therapy lamps?”

Cisco ducked his head. “Probably. I got a lot of work here, man, no offense.”

Barry didn’t take the hint. “Are you hungover?”

“No.”

“You haven’t taken those goggles off, your hair is all limp, and you wore those clothes yesterday.”

Cisco frowned and touched his hair. “Okay, fine, I admit I skipped my hair care routine this morning. I might have hit the bar a little too hard last night.”

“Yeah, and how hard did it hit you back?” Barry scowled. “Is that what you’re doing? Going out drinking?”

No. Most of the time he stayed in and drank.

He was well aware it wasn’t the best answer to his problems, but it was the only one he had, so there. He shook his head and grimaced again. “Dude, it’s not like I’m drinking at work. Lay off.”

“Why are you drinking at home? Is this because you’re fighting with Caitlin?”

“We didn’t have a fight.”

“You could fool me. I can’t think of the last time I found you hanging out in her lab, or vice versa.”

“Maybe cuz the last time I was in the same room with her for more than ten minutes, she whiffed the Belly Buster I’d had for lunch and immediately hurled.”

On top of the fatigue, Caitlin now had morning sickness, or more accurately, every-day-all-the-time sickness. Cisco had always thought that level of pregnancy yuck was the stuff of bad sitcoms, but apparently it was very real, and there wasn’t even a laugh track. Just the sound of retching behind a closed door.

Barry said, “Even you can’t eat BBB every day, and if you could, you wouldn’t now that Caitlin yorks at so much as a french fry.”

It was true. He hadn’t even gotten a milkshake since that happened, worried that the scent of grease and meat would somehow cling to the waxy cup and the plastic lid, and then Caitlin would be running for the bathroom again. He always wanted to go after her, to rub her back and hold her hair, but Iris was usually already on it. And that was if Caitlin didn’t say, “No, it’s okay, I don’t need -” before slamming the bathroom door behind her.

For a doctor, she was weirdly twitchy about anyone seeing her barf.

Not that fast food was the only culprit. Almost any strong smell made her turn green. Cisco was pretty sure she was subsisting on sparkling water and Ritz crackers and prenatal vitamins. He did his best to quietly stock the kitchen with the two food items and hope she was okay with that. She seemed to be.

He was giving her as much space as he could stand, and more besides, even though his stomach felt hollow every time he stopped himself from texting or ambling up to her lab or even buying her something when he went out for lunch.

Oh, they could work together, in the same room. They could even consult one on one. But it wasn’t the same, and Barry was right. They never hung out in each others’ spaces anymore. And they definitely never texted about non-work stuff, or sent each other links or memes or articles. He hadn’t realized how much they did until they didn’t.

Barry put his hands on his hips. “Would you please make up with her?”

“I told you, we’re not fighting. She asked me for space and I’m giving it to her.”

“Whatever, man. It’s weird, you two being all cold with each other. I don’t like it, and you don’t work like you used to.”

That much was true. He felt blocked, unable to run things by her like he used to. The hangovers probably didn’t help, either.

“Look, get her flowers or something. There’s all sorts of deals for Valentine’s Day right now.”

“That’s the opposite of giving her space.”

“You’ve given her flowers before. As a friend. Get her friend-flowers. Get back in her good graces. Then maybe things will be back to normal.”

“I’m not - fine. If I say I’ll think about it, will you leave me alone?”

“Yes,” Barry said, though Cisco didn’t really believe him until he went to the door. Even then, he called over his shoulder, “Get yourself back together, man,” before zipping off back to the speed lab.

Cisco turned down the lights and pulled off his goggles. They were making his headache worse.

His jaw rasped against his hand, and he realized he hadn’t even shaved this morning. Ugh. Fine. _Fine._

After he’d gone downstairs to the old staff gym and taken a shower, put on fresh clothes, shaved, and took a buttload of Advil, he felt better. For a certain value of better. He sat himself back down in front of his monitors, determined to work, but found himself opening up a flower delivery website, bursting with Valentines’ Day pink and red fever.

“You should not do this,” he said out loud.

He scrolled down the page, past bunches of rose and lilies and heart-shaped pillows and chocolate-dipped strawberries. _Show them how much you care. For the most special person in your life. Make their Valentine’s Day memorable._

No. No way. Flowers were already a bad idea, a giant arrangement of red roses and baby’s breath with a jumbo box of chocolates was an even worse one.

He got past the front page and started scanning the different categories of flowers. He detoured into the “new baby” arrangements, but it was mostly pink lambs with pink ribbons and pink hooves, holding pink roses, or ducks with sailor caps and blue sunflowers. He backed out of that and found the “just because” section. That was a little better. Lots of different kinds of flowers, not just roses.

Not that she disliked roses, but everyone knew what roses meant.

There.

Tulips, in a bright burst of colors and a classy blue-frosted vase. She loved tulips. He’d given them to her before, for her birthday or when she was feeling low. Like now. When she was tired and barfy and they were all working way too hard at catching the Cicada. Tulips weren’t a declaration of true love. They were just something pretty, to brighten up the med lab. Maybe they would even make her smile.

“This is in no way a good idea,” he told the screen.

Then he tapped the order button.

* * *

 When Dr. Harris heard about her morning sickness, she crossed her arms and gave Caitlin a look over her glasses. “And why is this the first I’m hearing about this?”

Because she was exhausted and busy and heartsore, and calling the doctor would have been just one more thing when she already felt like she was being crushed by life. She pleated her skirt over her knee. “Everything I read indicated I could wait to bring this up at my checkup."

The doctor made a derisive noise. “That’s for normal cases, not vomiting multiple times a day. You’ve lost six and a half pounds. Not unexpected given what you describe, but still no good. Not at all what I like to hear.” She pulled her laptop toward her. “I’m going to give you a prescription for something that should help that vomiting and bring your appetite back.” She scowled and clicked, then considered and clicked something else. "If we get this sorted out, that might ease the fatigue you're suffering too."

“All this usually clears up by the second trimester, doesn’t it? On its own?”

“So? You want to be miserable until then? Pick up the prescription.” She clicked one last thing. “I’d also like you to get some more proteins in your diet, if you can. Try some cheese, or a little peanut butter on top of all those crackers. Do you think you can keep that down?”

She massaged her stomach, which roiled even now, when all she'd put in it this morning was a slice of dry toast. “I’ll try.”

“Good. How’s everything else? How’s work? Are they supportive?”

“Yes,” Caitlin said, glad she was doing something that the rather formidable OBGYN would approve of. “We pretty much set our own hours, except when there’s a - “ She paused, trying to describe superheroics without describing them. “Special project,” she concluded. “But anyway, that means it’s fine if I have to come in late or go home early or take a nap in my office.”

“That’s something, at least. If that ever changes, you let me know and I’ll write a sternly worded doctor’s note. Okay, I want to get some blood from you, and we have to schedule one last thing today.”

* * *

Caitlin parked in front of Star Labs and turned off her car. She looked at the appointment card she’d gotten from Dr. Harris’s receptionist, at the date and time on it.

She had all the information in her phone already. It wasn’t like she needed this for herself. But she’d asked for it anyway.

Just in case she wanted to give it to Cisco.

_Did_ she want to give it to Cisco?

She put the card in her purse and then fumbled for the bag from the pharmacy. Twisting open the orange bottle, she took the pill with a sip of water, shutting her eyes as she swallowed and focusing on letting it settle into her stomach. There had been a few days where she couldn’t even keep water down. She really hoped this worked.

Someone knocked on her the window, and she shrieked.

“Sorry!” the kid in the cap yelped. “Sorry!”

He was probably about seventeen and looked twelve, and it was broad daylight. She got out of the car. “It’s okay. You just startled me. Can I help you?”

"I've got a delivery for here, but - " He looked over his shoulder. "I dunno, didn't it blow up or something?"

"Not the entire thing," she said. "There are still a few people working here."

"Oh, huh, phew. I thought it was a prank or something. Okay, can you sign for it?"

Since when did anyone need to sign for lunch delivery? Caitlin scribbled her name on the electronic pad and held her hand out, ready to receive pho or tacos or pizza and very much hoping the smell wouldn't make her throw up. But instead, the kid went to a panel van parked off to the side and pulled out a beautiful blue vase full of tulips.

"For Dr. Caitlin Snow," he said cheerfully, plopping them in her arms, and then looked at his tablet. "Oh, hey, that's you! So, happy early Valentine's Day I guess." He hopped in his truck and drove off, leaving her staring at the flowers.

She didn't need to open the card to know who they were from. Cisco knew tulips were her favorite flower, and he'd gotten them for her before - or sunflowers, or yellow roses, or lilies. But that was when they'd been friends, before they'd been more.

Slowly, she locked her car and started walking in with the flowers. What if they were from someone else? She couldn't think who. Her mother, perhaps? But why would her mother, of all people, send flowers randomly? She didn't know about the baby yet, and Caitlin's birthday wasn't until the end of the month.

Iris, maybe. She'd been so miserable lately. Or -

No, she was grasping at straws. Occam's Razor, Caitlin.

The elevator dinged and Cisco stepped out. When he saw her with the flowers, he said, "Shit."

"So these are from you," she said.

His head drooped. "Yes."

She pressed her lips together. "I asked you for space. This doesn't look like giving me space."

"No," he said. "I know. I knew I shouldn't have, and I was trying to intercept the delivery guy right now because the app said he was outside. But I guess he must have run into you first."

"Why did you get them at all?"

"Because they're pretty, and you've been having a bad time, and I've gotten you flowers before, and - "

She leveled a look at him, and he shut his mouth. After a moment, she walked past him into the elevator, and he followed just as the door shut behind him with a ding. Since her hands were full, he hit the button.

The elevator lurched very slightly as it rolled up, and he said suddenly, "I miss you."

She looked over at him. He was looking up at the ceiling, resting his head back against the elevator wall.

"I miss you a lot," he said quietly. "We've never been like this before. I mean, sure, we've been less tight from time to time, and sometimes you haven't been here, but - "

"I know," she said. "This is different."

He swallowed. She could see his Adam's apple bob down the line of his throat. "I just miss you."

Her throat knotted up.

The elevator cranked to a stop on the top floor and dinged open. She walked out and he followed her in silence.

She turned to face him. "I still do need that space," she said. "You need to know that."

"I know. I'm trying."

"I know you are."

He made half a gesture at the flowers still in her arms. "I can take those and - and pitch them or whatever."

She hugged them to herself. "You're not throwing away my flowers."

He looked confused. "Wait, I thought - "

She missed him too. But she didn't say that. "They're pretty," she said. "It's been so grey lately. It'll be nice to have some color that's not a superhero suit around here."

"Okay," he said, still looking baffled but a little hopeful now, too.

She fished in her purse. "Here."

"What's this?" He took the card and squinted at the date. "This is for Friday. What is this place?"

"Ultrasound," she said.

He looked up very fast.

She hugged her flowers closer, brushing her cheek against their sleek petals. "It's your baby, too," she said. "So if you'd like to come - "

"Yeah," he said. "Yes. Absolutely. I'll be there."

She bit her lip. "Okay." Without another word, she took her flowers through the cortex and into her lab, ignoring Iris’s raised eyebrows.

Maybe she shouldn’t have accepted them. It did kind of dilute what she’d said.

But they were pretty. And she was tired of not accepting the things Cisco wanted to give her, even if he couldn’t give her the relationship she wanted.

She set the vase near the window where the weak winter sunlight could fall on them. From her desk, she could see her flowers in her peripheral vision, a patch of bright colors in the grey day. 


	18. Chapter 18

Cisco knocked on the door jamb, and Caitlin slapped something face-down before spinning to face him with the bright, smooth expression she’d worn for the past several weeks. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he said. “So, I wanted to see if you had the results on that residue yet.”

“My tests are still running, but they should be done in about fifteen minutes.”

“Okay, cool. Good to know.” He shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Can’t stop looking at it, huh?”

“Hmm?”

He nodded at the paper on her desk. “The ultrasound.”

They’d gone last week. He’d expected gel slathered on Caitlin’s stomach and a wand pressed to her skin, but the tech had said, “Now because it’s so early on, we’re going to have to go up through the vagina -”

“We’re going to _what,”_ Cisco had said, and gone out into the hall until Caitlin called out to him, assuring him that the wand was in place and there was nothing to see.

He’d come back in, trying not to look at Caitlin’s lap with the tech’s hand up under the hospital gown. Instead, he focused on the screen with the weird pattern of blobs and static that was, apparently, Caitlin’s uterus, with their baby in it.

The tech had told them a few things, like that the actual time elapsed since conception was seven-ish weeks, not ten, although for some weird doctor reason they would still say ten weeks. That put the due date around the end of September, or maybe the first week of October. That also meant Caitlin had conceived sometime between Christmas and New Year’s.

Cisco had looked away from Caitlin then, knowing they were both remembering they’d spent the night after the Wests’ Christmas party.

But ti was kind of nice, knowing that their baby had almost certainly gotten started then, in that evening of tenderness and sweetness.

Then she’d pointed something out in the general blob. “That’s the heart,” she’d said. “Already beating. Looks good.”

Cisco had stared at the little flutter on the screen. A heart. A tiny little heart, right there. Beating its first tiny beats. He’d found himself crying, pushing his hands over his mouth to hold in the sobs, curling his fingers down so he could still see that flutter.

“Cisco,” Caitlin had said. “Cisco?”

He hadn’t been able to answer.

The tech had handed him a large box of tissues and said to Caitlin, “Oh, honey, it’s okay, I’ve seen all kinds of reactions. It takes some daddies like this. Let him cry it out.”

They’d both gotten an electronic copy, plus printouts of the ultrasound. Now, Caitlin ran her fingers over the back of the paper. “I keep looking at it,” she said. “Staring, really.”

“Me too,” he said. “Mine’s up by my computer.” Every time he looked at it, he got a knot in his throat.

“I keep mine in the top drawer.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Pretty awesome. Our baby’s first pic.”

“Amazing,” she said.

They watched each other for a moment, then her eyes slid away. He chewed his lip.

“Was there -”

“I don’t know what I’m looking at,” he blurted. “On that ultrasound. I have no idea. It could be a map of Narnia and it would make more sense.”

She sagged. “I’m so glad you said something. I can’t figure it out either.”

“Forreals?”

“It’s like a Rorschach test!” She held it out. “I mean, I can tell where the baby is, kind of. The general shape, you know? But that technician -”

“Oh my god, right? Like, ‘this blob is the head and this blob is their butt, do you see all that?’ And I was like, ‘uh-huh, uh-huh,’ when inside I was all ‘nooooooo I see nothing.’ I’m the worst dad in the world.”

She giggled. “No, you’re not. You know, I’ve actually had training in reading an ultrasound and I still can’t figure it out. If you ask me, that makes me the worst mom.”

“No,” he said firmly. “No way. Not even.”

She smiled at him. “She did say the baby was at a bad angle. If we hadn’t gotten a call from Barry, we probably could have gotten a better one.”

He pushed away the memory of that. He’d been so off-kilter that day that he’d let a criminal get away, and Barry hadn’t been happy with him. They’d caught the guy later, but it still made him cringe. “Are they gonna have you go back in?”

“Not right away,” she said. “They heard the heartbeat, and there was enough for the technician to check the issues she needed to check. They’ll do another one when I’m twenty weeks.”

“Cool.”

She fiddled with the ultrasound picture. “So, I’ve been meaning to ask you. Dr. Harris also wants me to have a genetic test. Mostly to check for issues like spina bifida and Downs, but, um. One of the things it also shows is the sex. Do you want to know? Or do you want it be a surprise, or do you maybe want to do a big reveal party?”

“Like a cake that we cut and get either blue or pink filling?”

“Something like that.”

He scrunched his face. “No,” he said. “Those things are kind of screwy if you ask me.”

“I’m not a fan myself, but you really like parties.”

“Parties, sure. But a cake with ‘trucks or tutus’ on it? Why are those mutually exclusive?”

“The truck should get a tutu of its own if it wants,” she contributed.

“Exactly! Sometimes a truck really just wants to feel pretty, and that’s cool.”

She laughed again. “So no big reveal.”

“No,” he said. “But I would like to find out. That’s if you don’t want to wait.”

She shook her head. “Maybe I shouldn’t care, but I do. It’ll make everything feel more real, somehow.”

“It really will. So yeah, let’s find out.”

“Okay.”

He reached out and pulled out a glove from the box on her desk, fiddling with it, tying the fingers together, untying them. “So. Speaking of parties,” he said. “Your birthday. Is soon.”

“I know.”

It was hard to read her face. He inched out on the ice. “I’m not saying party, but - I’d like to take you out.”

She hesitated, and he thought, _Oh no, misread that one, Ramon you jackass._ He hurried into further speech. “Not - as - like a _date_ or - you know. More like we’ve done before. On your birthdays, before. I just - you know what, never mind, you’re not - “

“No!” she said, and he stopped babbling. “I mean. Yes, I’d like to go to dinner.”

“Dinner?”

“Or a drink,” she said. “I mean, not a _drink,_ because - “ She rested her hand on her stomach. “But you know, in the sense of a - of a beverage -" She stumbled to a stop and they simmered in a stew of awkwardness together.

“Okay,” he said finally. “Yeah. Dinner. Got a preference? What makes you puke these days?”

“I’m doing a lot better with that, on the new medication,” she said. “You can pick whatever you want. But no seafood.”

Right, because of mercury and stuff. God, there were a lot of things that pregnant women suddenly couldn’t eat or drink or be near or as far as he could tell, even think about. It was batshit. “You sure? I don’t want to push you into anything you don’t want.” He wasn't just talking about his choice of cuisine.

“I’m sure.” She smiled at him. “I’ve missed you, too.”

* * *

For her birthday, Cisco took her to his cousin’s restaurant, and she surprised both of them by cleaning her plate. “It’s just really good,” she said, scraping the plate. “This is so good!” She sucked her fork, telling herself that refried beans had lots of protein, and wasn’t that what Dr. Harris had told her to eat?

Cisco grinned at her across the table and ordered another beer.

They didn’t talk about the baby. Instead, they talked about Cicada, about Iris’s latest blog numbers, about Caitlin’s testing and the equipment he was scratching around the Star Labs budget to buy. To her surprise, Cisco hadn’t watched any mid-season replacement shows. “Really?” she said. “You usually try them all out right away.”

He shrugged. “Nothing looks good. So what kind of fruit basket did Mama Snow’s PA send you for your birthday?”

“Actually, it’s a really lovely painting,” Caitlin said. “It even looks like her handwriting on the card. I think she picked it out.”

He cocked his head. “You guys really are trying, aren’t you?”

“We’ve managed to talk on the phone at least once a month for the past six months. Considering our history, that’s a lot.”

He dropped his voice. “Have you told her yet?”

She toyed with her hibiscus tea. “Not yet. Soon. Once I hit the second -”

He hissed and cut her off. She stared at him until someone said from behind her, “Hey, man! How’s the food?”

“Awesome, thanks,” Cisco said, and got up to hug his cousin. “You’ve met my friend Caitlin, haven’t you?”

“Por supuesto. Hi, Caitlin.”

“Hector, right?” she said, shaking the hand he offered her. He was around their age, and reminded her of Dante, although he was heavier around the middle and his eyes were kinder.

“That’s right,” he said. “How’s your food? Went for the enchiladas, good choice. Not too spicy?”

“No, everything’s perfect. The beans are delicious.” She glanced at her plate. “Were delicious.”

“Great, just what I like to hear. You need anything? Our bartender makes a killer jamaica margarita.” He pronounced it ha-myee-ca, like Cisco had, not like the country. “Special for a friend of the family.”

“I’m all right, but thank you.”

Cisco and Hector talked for a few more minutes, some gossip about their uncle’s new house, and then Hector said goodbye and left to check on something in the kitchen.

“Sorry to shush you,” Cisco muttered. “If we want to keep it quiet for a few more weeks, letting it slip around Hector isn’t the way to do it.”

“Would he tell your mom?”

“Not directly, but he’d say something to his sister who would call up my cousin who would tell my auntie who’d be over at my mama’s within the hour. And then she’d be on the phone to me.” He took a drink of beer. “You’re getting into a lot, having a Ramon baby. They’re going to be all up in your business forever.”

“Well, I’ll count on you to run interference,” she said.

He drained his beer and held up a finger for another one.

The next day, Caitlin found a large to-go order of the frijoles in the Star Labs refrigerator, labeled “CAITLIN’S!!!!” in Cisco’s handwriting. She laughed and scooped out a small portion. She didn’t throw up nearly as often now, but it did sometimes still happen.

The styrofoam container had a sticker with the restaurant’s information on the side. Studying it, she pulled out her phone.

“Luisita’s, can I help you?”

“Hi, I was wondering if I could talk to Hector Archuleta?”

“Oh, sure, of course - Oye, Hector! Phone.”

A new voice came on the line. “This is Hector.”

“Hi, Hector, this is Cisco’s friend Caitlin? Do you remember me?”

“Of course I do. How’s everything?”

“Great,” she said. “Listen, um, I was wondering - is your family planning anything for Cisco’s thirtieth birthday?”

“He’s made some noises about hitting the town, but nothing for sure. You got an idea?”

“Yes,” she said. “Can you help?”

“Absolutely.”

* * *

Barry paced back and forth along their case board, scowling at the pictures of the Cicada’s victims. “We need to get out in front of this, guys. People are dying - “

Caitlin’s phone rang, and she glanced at it, already reaching for the mute button. But when she saw the name on the screen, she snatched it up. “Excuse me, I’ve got to take this.” She held it up in Cisco’s direction, and he read _Dr. Harris_ on the screen.  
  
He jerked to attention. “Be right back,” he told the others.

“Guys, do you have to do that now?” Barry asked. “This is important.”

“It’s the doctor’s office with the results of the genetic testing,” Caitlin said. “I’ve been playing phone tag with them since yesterday.”

Iris nodded, but Barry scowled. “Do you both need to go?” he asked peevishly.

Cisco said, “Yes,” and followed Caitlin to her lab.

They sat shoulder to shoulder, hunched over the phone, as Caitlin answered and put it on speaker. “Hello?”

“Caitlin? It’s Dr. Harris.”

“Hi, you’re on speaker.”

“I’m here, too,” Cisco called out. “Cisco. Uh, the dad.”

“Cisco, hi,” Dr. Harris said. “Good to talk to you again. Okay, I’ve got your test results back.”

Caitlin’s hand crept out and wrapped around Cisco’s. He squeezed it hard.

“And for the most part, everything looks great.”

They let out identical gasps of relief. Caitlin turned to him with a big smile on her face. He wanted to hug her but restrained himself. They might be doing better lately but they weren’t there yet.

The doctor continued, “No markers for any of the major disorders. You’ve got a healthy, normally developing baby there. Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” Cisco said. “Wow. Thanks.”

“You said for the most part,” Caitlin said. “Was there something we should know?”

“Well, there is.”

Cisco felt his heart lock up.

“On the intake paperwork, you said that you’d both been living in Central City since childhood.”

“Right,” Cisco said.

“When I saw that, I went ahead and ordered this test. Now, before I let you know the results, I want you bear in mind that this is a pretty new test. We don’t know the incidence of false positives yet. We also don’t know what a positive means, exactly. This is an area of genetics that’s basically the Wild West. We’ve added this test because most parents very much want to know if there’s even a chance.”

“Please just tell us,” Caitlin said.

“There’s an abnormality on one of the baby’s genes. Normally it’s junk DNA, but there’s a distinct correlation between this gene and people who demonstrate metahuman powers.”

“The metagene,” they said in perfect unison.

“Some call it that.”

Caitlin let out a squeak of a laugh and put her hands to her face, shaking her head.

Cisco said, “Oh my god, is that all? We thought it was something serious.”

There was a little pause. “You have both been living in Central City all this time, right? Did you leave and go somewhere else?”

“Nope,” Cisco said. “Right here this whole time.”

“Both of us,” Caitlin said. “We know all about metahumans, Dr. Harris. Trust us.”

Cisco laughed himself at that. Caitlin glanced at him with a little half-smile.

The doctor sounded tentative as she went on. “Okay, well, we also don’t know the ratio of carrier to expression. The mere presence of a metagene doesn’t guarantee it’s going to get expressed, much less how it’s going to get expressed. It could lie dormant for your baby’s entire life.”

“We know all about that too,” Cisco said, and Caitlin smiled ruefully. “Look, this is no big deal.”

“Okay,” Dr. Harris said again, sounding confused, as if this reaction was entirely outside her experience. “Well, if you two need some time to . . . To think it over . . .” She trailed off.

“It’s fine, it’s cool,” Cisco said. “We’re going to have a meta baby. We kind of expected that.”

“Was it just the one gene?” Caitlin asked.

“Ah . . . Yes. Just one.”

“Okay,” Caitlin said.

“Okay,” Dr. Harris echoed. “Well. That’s mostly what I wanted to talk to you two about.” Some paper shuffled. “Oh! I have a note here that you wanted to know the sex.”

“Yes,” Cisco said.

“You’re having a boy. ”

“A boy,” Caitlin said. “Oh. Wow.”

Cisco felt his throat closing up. “Thanks, Doc,”  he said.

“You’re welcome,” she said. “Glad it all turned out okay.” She still sounded uncertain. “See you in a couple of weeks for your next checkup.”

“See you,” Caitlin echoed and ended the call.  She swiveled in her chair. “Cisco. A son. We have a son.”

“Wow,” he said. “Oh my god. A little boy.” Before he thought, he reached out and put her hand over her stomach.

But she didn’t pull away. “Our little boy,” she said, covering his hands with hers and smiling at him.

“Yeah,” he said. “Hey, baby boy.” He rubbed his thumb over her belly. “Hi in there.”

He’d never thought he was the type to care about a baby’s sex. And it wasn’t like he’d ever been the kind to want someone to carry on the family name or anything. But somehow, this piece of information made the idea of this baby a step closer to reality. They knew something now about the tiny human being they’d created together. He was like a picture, slowly coming into focus.

Cisco looked up at her. “Are you sad it’s not a girl?”

She thought about that. “Maybe?” she said. “A little. But I think that has more to do with knowing this is the only baby I’ll ever have, unless I plan to adopt one day. Any time an option is off the table, there’s a little bit of grief, you know? Even if you’re happy.”

“Yeah,” he said thoughtfully. “Same, I guess.”

She gave him a funny look. “Nothing’s stopping you from having more children. You could have a herd of girls after this.”

“Right,” he said. “Of course. Obviously.” He patted her stomach one last time and pulled his hand away. “And you know, we only know what this kid’s chromosomes say. They could still be a girl.”

“That’s true,” she said. She glanced over his shoulder. “I guess we’d better get back to Barry’s brainstorming session.”

When they went back into the cortex, Iris said, “Hey, guys, everything okay?”

“Everything’s great,” Cisco said. He glanced at Caitlin, raising his brows - _you wanna tell them?_

“All the tests came back negative for any major genetic disorders,” Caitlin said. “We’re having a healthy little boy.”

“Oh my god!” Iris said, coming forward to hug her. “Congratulations.” She turned to hug Cisco. “A boy. Wow.”

Barry was right behind her, hugging them both with no sign of his earlier peevishness. He let Cisco go and said, “Congrats, man. You’re going to be an amazing dad.”

Cisco’s stomach twisted, but he made himself smile. “I’m looking forward to it.” That much, at least, was true.

Iris poked Barry’s arm and gave him a look.

Barry muttered, “I _am,”_ and looked back at them. “So, hey, about the, uh, earlier.”

“Yes?” Caitlin said coolly.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I’m a little fixated on the Cicada right now. You know how I get. I didn’t mean to imply that your baby wasn’t important too.”

“Hey, man,” Cisco said. “Forget it. We’re good.” He glanced at Caitlin.

After a moment, she nodded. "We do know how you get."

Barry’s face broke out in a smile. “So, since you’re having a boy, I’ve always thought Bartholomew was a pretty distinguished name. You know, in case you’re taking suggestions.”

Cisco snorted loudly. “Not on your life.”


	19. Chapter 19

They were slowly building up their old relationship again. They didn’t text outside of work. But at Star Labs, Caitlin was talking to him, about more things than just science or crime or the Cicada. They didn’t hang out together at each others’ places like before. But they were going in and out of each others’ labs again, and Cisco ordered them lunch together sometimes. He tried to keep it to once a week, unless she suggested it.

On his birthday, though, they went out for a drink together.

It was her suggestion, a nice cocktail bar that still had decent music. They’d gone there before. He stopped in the bathroom when they got there, while she went to order their drinks. While he was washing his hands, he said to his reflection, “Stick to one.”

He’d been drinking too much lately. He’d taken the recycling out yesterday morning and it was already half full again. He needed to cut back or he was going to wind up dying of cirrhosis of the liver. Or by breaching when he shouldn’t.

“One,” he reiterated, and yanked a paper towel out of the dispenser so hard that it rattled on the wall.

One right now, anyway.

He found a table and turned toward the bar to see if he could spot Caitlin. She was down at the end, the bartender pouring her drinks, and a slick-looking guy all up in her personal space.

Cisco felt himself go rigid, but Caitlin shook her head and turned her back, reaching out for the drinks as the guy clearly wheedled. She walked away without acknowledging him.

Cisco waved to catch her attention, and she smiled at him and started working her way through the Friday-night crowds, moving with the smooth grace and control of her brief bartending gig. Behind her, Slicky McGee looked from her to Cisco.

He narrowed his eyes, thinking, _That’s right, fucko. She’s with me._

Slicky made a sour face and moved on down the bar to a vulnerable-looking woman.

Caitlin arrived at their table without spilling a drop. “Tecate for you,” she said, setting a pint glass down in front of him, “and a Shirley Temple for me.”

It made him laugh, and then he could ask much more easily, “Who was your pal at the bar?”

She waved it off as she settled onto the stool across from him. “Just someone who wanted to buy me a drink.”

He took the jealous flare and stuffed it deep into his stomach. He had no right to be jealous. It had to be washed down with a sip of beer though. “Can’t blame him for trying his luck,” he said. “You’re looking good.”

To tell the truth, she was glowing. He’d always thought that was a thing people said to make pregnant ladies feel better, but she really was. Her hair looked shinier and thicker, her skin was luminous. And, not to put too fine a point on it, her pretty wrap dress was showing a lot more cleavage than it used to.

But she looked away at his compliment, instead of giving him the kind of beaming smile she would have last year. Cisco flushed and ran his thumb over the etched bar logo on his pint glass. Sometimes things like that still slipped out of his mouth, and fuck, it was awkward. “I mean,” he said. “I mean, you look like you’re feeling good. You feeling good?”

“Mmm,” she said. “I’m not so tired all the time anymore, and I’m not vomiting nearly as often. It’s getting better.”

She still wasn’t showing. Apparently, that was normal, but that didn’t stop him from yearning to see the proof of their child, there on her body. Between that and keeping it quiet, sometimes he felt as if the baby was still just an idea, even though he had the confusing ultrasound to stare at several times a day.

“Second trimester soon, right?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “It’s supposed to be the good one.”

“Yeah,” he said. “About that -”

But she’d looked away, and he followed her gaze to where a woman was just walking out, tossing a mane of white-blond curls as she slammed the door behind her.

It wasn’t Killer Frost. Of course not. But - “Remind you of someone?” he asked.

She stirred her drink. “I think you know who.”

He studied her a moment. “You miss her?” She hadn’t mentioned Frost in a long time.

“I do, actually,” she said. “I’ve been thinking about her a lot lately.”

“It’ll be a year, soon.” Since she’d lost her. Was that accurate?

“She’s still in there,” Caitlin sid, unconsciously echoing his thoughts. “Or at least, her gene is.”

“Is that why you asked about the second metagene?”

She nodded. “I wanted to find her again, right after it happened. I really did. Maybe if I’d gotten some kind of lead . . .” She frowned down at the ice in her drink. “But Mom got sick, and then with everything that’s happened since then, it sort of slipped down my list of priorities.” She shrugged a little. “It’s the same old story of Star Labs, right?”

“You know,” he said, “maybe you’re thinking about her because you carrying someone else around inside you again.”

“Maybe.” She looked up with a wry look on her face. “Maybe it’s better she’s still missing. Or asleep. Or whatever she is. I don’t think she’d be too happy to wake up in a pregnant body. I can’t imagine Frost as the motherly type.”

“Vodka aunt, maybe,” Cisco said.

Caitlin smiled at that, but it dissolved to a troubled expression. “I honestly don’t know if a baby would be safe with her.”

“Some random baby, no,” Cisco said. “But I saw her from the outside, remember. She loved you. In her way. I think your baby would be fine.”

Caitlin didn’t look completely convinced.

"Hey, you know, as scary as she could be, she never actually killed anyone."

"She could have if she wanted," Caitlin said.

"Big deal," Cisco said. "Barry could if he wanted. Just run up and snap their necks, like Zoom. I could if I wanted. Certain frequencies can fuck someone's insides all the way up, and I wouldn't be surprised if Reverb did that any time he pleased. Are you going to start calling us killers?”

"Barry's not Zoom and you're not Reverb. It's different."

"Okay, then if that's how we're talking, Iris killed Savitar, and she's not even a meta."

"Yeah," Caitlin said slowly. She stirred her drink, pushing the cherries down under the ice to the bottom of the glass. "But that was an extreme situation. And if you or Barry ever killed someone, it would be an extreme situation. To save someone's life, to protect someone. With Frost, it was always more of an option.”

"But," he said, waving a finger. "It still never happened, and I think that was your influence."

She dropped her stir stick. “Well, it’s a moot point right now. If she ever does turn up, and if I get the slightest hint that our son isn’t 100% safe with her, I’ll wear the power suppression bracelets until I die.”

He blinked. She looked deadly serious, not even a hint of exaggeration.

Killer Frost could turn anyone who threatened their baby into a freezy-pop. But suddenly, he had the feeling that Caitlin might do worse.

Then she looked away, flicking her hair over her shoulder, and the moment broke. “So serious,” she said. “Sorry about that. You were saying something, before I got distracted?”

“Yeah,” he said, clearing his throat. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking.”

“About?”

“When we get back to my place and everybody jumps out from behind the sofa and yells ‘surprise!’ - “

She looked up quickly. “What? No, nobody’s going to - what?”

He smirked at her.

She deflated. “You’ve known the whole time.”

“Pretty much.”

“Did you vibe it?”

“Please, some credit here. Everybody except you was mysteriously unavailable to hang on my one and only thirtieth birthday, which also happens to be a Friday night? I didn’t need to vibe it.” At her downcast look, he quickly added, “It’s awesome! I’ve never had a surprise party thrown for me. I’m so pumped. Seriously.”

“Will you still act surprised?” she begged him. “Everyone’s looking forward to that part.”

“I won’t ruin their fun, I promise,” he said. “But anyway, like I was saying, after I nail the Oscar for Most Astonished Guest of Honor, I want to tell them.”

“Tell them you knew?”

He leaned forward. “I want to tell them about the baby.”

She bit her lip. “Cisco - “

“Look, I know you really want to keep it quiet until the second trimester, but we were just saying that’s like, next week. The little guy’s got a good strong heartbeat and all your levels are great. And everyone’s going to be there tonight. It’s the perfect time. Don’t you want to share this?”

She still looked hesitant. “It’s just that - I haven’t told my mom.”

“You haven’t?” For some reason, he’d thought she would.

“I’ve been meaning to. I even called her the other day and started to say. But I couldn’t figure out how.”

He frowned at his beer glass. He hadn’t anticipated this. “So - you want me to wait?”

“No,” she said. “You’re right. It’s time. Let’s call her right now. I’ll do that first and then you can tell everyone at your place and - and it’ll be wonderful.” She fumbled her phone out.

“Want me to give you some privacy here?”

She reached out for his hand. “No. We’re a team. We’re doing this together.”

“Yeah,” he said, his heart softening up like butter in the sun. “Okay.”

She navigated to her contacts. “Ready?” she asked him.

“Hit it.”

The phone rang a couple of times before Carla Tannhauser picked up. “Caitlin,” she said in tones of surprise. “Is everything all right?”

“Everything’s great, Mom. Um, I have some news.”

“Have you finally gotten a respectable job?”

Cisco felt his eyebrows fly up practically to his hairline.

“Mom,” Caitlin said in tones of warning.

“Fine,” Carla said. “What's your news?”

“I’m pregnant,” Caitlin said. “You’re going to be a grandmother.”

Silence. Cisco looked at Caitlin, thinking _oh shit, no, please let her not be all Mama Snow about this._

“Mom?” Caitlin said.

“Really? Pregnant. You.”

“Yes, Mom.”

“This isn’t some kind of a prank, is it? You aren’t recording this, are you?”

“No, of course not.”

Carla said. “I’m just - well. I didn’t even know you were dating anyone.”

Caitlin pulled her hand out from under Cisco’s, and he felt the absence like a hole in his stomach. “I’m not,” she said brightly. “Given the family history, my gynecologist thinks I should have an oophorectomy by the time I’m thirty-five.”

“Ah,” Carla said in tones of dawning comprehension. “And you decided you wanted to get pregnant before then?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I hope you picked a suitable donor.”

“The _father_ is my friend Cisco,” she said. Her voice took on a warning note again. “Who’s sitting right here, Mom.”

“Hi, Dr. T,” he called out. “How’s it going?”

“Hello,” she said. “Well. That’s very good news. Have you been to an OBGYN yet? You know, there’s a high risk of -”

“Yes,” she said. “I’m doing fine. I’m at fourteen weeks with no issues yet.”

A little pause. “Fourteen weeks, really.”

“I didn’t want to tell anyone until we were sure it was viable.”

“Well, yes, that makes sense.” She paused again, and in that pause, Cisco remembered that she’d had four miscarriages before carrying Caitlin to term.

_Four._

Four wanted pregnancies, four bundles of hopes and dreams and wishes that failed and vanished. He’d spent the past three months dreading the thought of losing even this one. He couldn’t imagine four.

It wasn’t an excuse for the way Carla was, but maybe it was a little bit of a reason.

“How are you feeling?” Carla asked briskly, as if she were taking notes on a chart.

“I’m good,” Caitlin said. “Really good. A little morning sickness, some fatigue -”

He raised his brows at her. She waved her hand back as if to say, _I don’t feel like telling her how bad it was._

“ - but that’s easing up now.”

“Yes, it tends to do that. Have you had genetic testing?”

“No issues yet. And we’re having a boy, by the way.”

“A boy. Well, that will be nice. So, September, then?”

“Around the end of the month.”

“I’ll get to work clearing my schedule now.”

Caitlin’s eyes widened at Cisco, and he widened his back. Carla? Here? While they were handling a newborn?

Except that he might not be here, and Caitlin would need somebody. Who knew? Her mom might actually be good for her. He nodded at her, and she frowned in confusion.

Carla continued, her voice more hesitant through the phone. “That’s if you want me there.”

He made little encouraging hand motions, and she said, “I - I do, Mom. Yes. That would be great.”

“I look forward to it. But I have to go, unfortunately. The opera’s starting.”

“Okay. I’m glad I caught you.”

“I’m glad you did, too. Bye, Cisco.”

“Bye,” he said, kind of glad his part of the conversation had been confined to salutations.

“And Caitlin?” she said.

“Yes?”

“Beshaah tovah.”

Cisco hadn’t heard that one, but it seemed meaningful, because Caitlin bit her lip and blinked hard a few times. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll be in touch, okay?” She ended the call and looked at Cisco. “Really?”

“Hey, you said yourself that you’re both trying. What better time for some mother-daughter bonding?”

“Um, anytime we're _not_ sleep-deprived and loopy?”

“You said yes.”

“I know.” She fiddled with her phone. “I guess it will be good to have another pair of hands at that time, even if she’s just ordering takeout and wrangling visitors.” She checked the time. “I’m supposed to get you there by nine o’clock.”

He glanced at his phone. They were driving in her car, which meant they had to get going now to get there in time. “Okay, let’s go surprise me.”

She smiled at him and went up to the bar to close out the tab.

“So, what was that she said at the end?” he asked as she came back “Bush - Bish - “

“Beshaah tovah,” Caitlin said. “It means - kind of -” She waved her hands like the translation was a ladybug she was trying to catch. “May everything go well. May everything happen the way it should.”

That seemed unnecessarily cagey to Cisco. “What’s wrong with congratulations?”

“It’s supposed to be bad luck, to act like the baby is already here, when they’re not yet.”

He helped her into her coat. “Mama Snow believes in luck?”

She pulled her hair out of her collar and shook it out. He caught the smell of her perfume and her shampoo and had to tell himself to focus on what she was saying. “I mean - no, she doesn’t. Of course not. But it’s a thing you say to pregnant women.”

“Well, my family’s going to say congratulations,” he said, zipping up his jacket. March was going out like a lion. “Hope that’s okay.”

She smiled at him. “Of course it is. It’s just a superstition.”

* * *

“SURPRISE!”

“What? Oh my god! Holy shit! You guys, for me? This is amazing!”

Caitlin hung back by the door, smiling as Cisco hammed it up, hugging friends and family as they came up, laughing and smiling. He did look believably surprised, if you didn’t know him as well as she did. Everyone seemed to believe it, anyway, even Barry and Iris when they came up to laugh at him for thinking they could ever possibly forget his birthday.

“Wow,” he said. “Wow, everyone, thanks so much. I love this. Thank you.” He accepted a bottle of beer from Iris, twisting off the cap and taking a swig. “Hey, hey, before we get to partying, I got something to say, okay?”

“Speech,” Hector called out, and Barry picked it up. “Speeeeeeech.”

“Shut up,” Cisco said, laughing. “So, most of you know my friend Caitlin.” He turned and beckoned her forward, mouthing, _c’mon, c’mere._

She stepped forward, telling herself not to be nervous or shy. This was _happy_ news. He was so excited to share it, his eyes shining and his smile big.

“She’s been my good friend a long time,” he was saying. “If I had to guess, this whole party was her idea and she organized it like Mon Mothma planning the battle of Endor.”

Caitlin fought her blush. Cisco grinned at her as the laughter died down.

“So there’s something I wanted to tell you all, and that’s that she’s pregnant. She’s going to have a baby at the end of September.”

There was a little “Oh!” of polite surprise, puzzled smiles, a few congratulations. A murmur of confused speculation began to buzz underneath everyone’s smile, and people were looking between Cisco and Caitlin with looks of suspicion on their faces.

Cisco’s bright grin wavered. He seemed to have expected a more dramatic reaction.

Caitlin leaned toward him and said softly, “I think you’re forgetting to mention something important?”

“What?” He blinked at her, then realization dawned on his face. “Oh! It’s my baby. Ours. Hers and mine. I’m the father.”

Then the room erupted, very satisfactorily. Caitlin found herself getting hugged by people she’d never met before, answering a barrage of questions. “A boy,” she said. “Just one. Yes, we’re sure, I’ve had an ultrasound. Fourteen weeks along. I’m doing okay. What? No, I had some morning sickness in the beginning, but that’s easing up. No, we haven’t talked about names yet.”

“That’s good,” some aunt said. “You should never name a baby you haven’t seen.”

“Well, it’s not that,” Caitlin said. “We just haven’t talked about it yet.”

“Trust me,” the aunt said. “What if you have a name all picked out and you meet him and he doesn’t look like his name at all?”

“Babies do tend to all look alike,” Caitlin said. “In my experience.”

“Not your own. I looked at my baby and I knew we had the wrong name. He didn’t look like an Alberto at all.”

“Sofia, I was there,” a cousin said. “He looked like a naked mole rat and you were tripping balls on the pain meds.” Everyone laughed.

There were other questions, less baby-centric, and not nearly so easy to answer. “So how long have you two been dating? Are you going to get married? Are you moving in together?”

“No,” she kept saying. “We’re not dating. We’re not going to move in together or get married. We’re going to raise this baby as a team, but we’re not - we’re not together.”

She held out for as long as she could, then managed to extricate herself by pleading a need for the bathroom, which was met with a chorus of commiseration. “I’ll make a plate for you,” some cousin said. “You like beans?”

“She loves them,” Hector said from the periphery of the female cloud. “I should have known something was up because she chowed down those beans from my restaurant like Anamay did when she was pregnant.”

Someone - presumably Anamay - made an indignant noise and swatted his arm, and Caitlin snuck away to the bathroom. She was washing her hands when a quick knock alerted her half a second before the door cracked open. “Just me,” Iris said, sliding in.

“Hi,” Caitlin said, scrubbing under her nails.

“So,” Iris said. “That was unexpected.”

She nodded, and then caught her friend’s eye in the mirror. “Oh,” she said. “Oh, no, it’s not what you’re thinking. He asked me if it was okay. I agreed. It’s about the time we were going to announce it anyway and this seemed like a good opportunity.”

Iris pursed her lips. “So he knew about this party.”

Caitlin sighed. “Yeah. He figured it out without vibing, even.” She shook her hands dry and wiped them on the hand towel.

“Mmmmm.” Iris plopped herself on the edge of the bathtub. “So what’s our story here?”

Caitlin sat on the (closed) toilet. “What do you mean?”

“I mean for the past half hour, people have been coming up to me all like, ‘when did they start dating? Why were they keeping it a secret?’" She spread her hands. "What do I tell them?”

“You don’t need to say anything.”

“Oh, believe me, I do.”

“Why does anybody need to know anything but that we’re having a baby together?” Caitlin heard the crack in her voice and looked away, blinking hard.

“Because people like to talk about people, and if you don’t give them a story, they will make one up. And I’m really trying to support you here, but I have no idea what you need, so maybe some help.”

Caitlin scowled at her, and Iris scowled back.

She had the sinking feeling her friend was right. But the thought of airing their private business gave her a sick stomach.

A fist thumped on the door. “God, you guys, other people need to -” The door swung open, revealing the surprised and embarrassed face of Cisco’s teenage cousin. “Sorry!” she said. “Oh my god. I thought you were my chismosa cousins, gossiping in here about - um, anyway.” She flushed. “You want me to leave you guys alone?”

“No, it’s okay,” Caitlin said. “We were about to come out anyway. It’s, um, Yalitza, right?”

She grinned. "Close. Yanitza. Yani."

"Yani. Sorry."

"It's okay,” she said, hoisting herself up to sit on the counter, one hip perilously close to turning on the water on herself. She leaned toward the mirror, fluffing her cute pageboy cut for a moment, examining the effect of the violet stripes at either temple. “At least you didn't call me Anita. Or Rita. Or Yvonne."

While Caitlin was trying to figure out how anyone could get Yvonne out of Yanitza, the girl barreled on. “So, okay, nobody knows and Cisco’s not saying. Did you guys break up before or after you got pregnant?”

Iris gave her a look.

Caitlin groaned under her breath. Iris, of course, was right. They’d said so little that people were already making up their own stories. She could only imagine what other versions were already out there. “It’s neither," she said slowly.

“Huh?”

“The truth is, we were never really dating,” Caitlin said. Her heart still twinged when she said it, but she was getting used to that now.

Yani opened her mouth, closed it, and said, "What does that mean?"

“Well. For a variety of reasons, I decided I wanted to have a baby and I asked for his help. That's - uh. That's how it worked."

The girl cocked her head to one side. “So - like a sperm donor?”

“He’s going to be more involved than that. He's actually very excited to be a father."

“Yeah, I haven’t seen him this pumped since the first trailer for _The Force Awakens._ So, did you do IVF or-?"

Caitlin felt her face heat. "That's a very personal question."

"Does that mean yes or no?"

"It means I'm not going to answer it," Caitlin said as gently as possible. She got up from the toilet. “We’ll let you use the bathroom in peace.”

Iris shut the door behind them as they went out into the tiny hallway. “So that’s the story?” she murmured under the thump of music in the living room.

“It is the truth,” Caitlin whispered back. And it didn’t get into the more painful parts of it.

“Yeah, it is,” Iris said. “Okay. Now that I’ve got that, I can do my work. It’s all I needed.”

Caitlin put her hand on her friend’s arm. “You’re right, Cisco and I should have figured out what to say about -” She bit her lip. “About us.”

Iris took her shoulders. “I know you value your privacy. But from what I saw when Cecile was pregnant, you’re going to have to get used to the whole world having an opinion about your belly, at least for the next six months.”

“Yay,” Caitlin said, and Iris laughed.


	20. Chapter 20

Cisco kept himself from drinking too much because he was losing himself in enjoying his party. The music was loud, the food was great, and for once he actually liked having his family there. If he had to have a last birthday party, this was the one he would have wanted.

He realized that he hadn’t seen Caitlin in a long time, and went looking. She was curled up in a corner of the couch, her head propped up on her fist as Hector and his old friend Luci hotly debated the Stanley Cup possibilities across her. 

“Hey,” Cisco said, crouching down next to the couch. “Hey, party girl. You awake?”

Caitlin blinked a few times. “Mmmm.Yes.”

“Liar,” he said. “You want me to run you home?” He lowered his voice. “The express way.”

“What about my car?” she yawned.

“I’ll bring it over tomorrow.”

“Mmmm. Okay.” She allowed him to haul her to her feet. “Where’s my purse?”

Hector looked up in the middle of loudly disparaging the Redwings. “Hey, Caitlin, you going?”

“Yes,” she said, retrieving her purse from behind the TV. “Tired out. Thanks for all your help.”

“Anytime,” he said, getting to his feet. Before Cisco could warn her, he wrapped his arms around her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “You take care of that baby, okay? We’ll see you soon.”

“Are you going?” Tia Alma said, appearing. “Here, I need your phone number.”

Caitlin was just putting her name in his aunt’s phone when a swarm of friends and cousins came up, each of them with something to say, whether it was ask when she wanted a shower, or just to get her contact info. Caitlin looked dazed by all the attention, but she smiled gamely, passed out her phone number, and even hugged people back.

His mama was the last one who caught them. “I’m very happy,” she said, holding Caitlin’s hands. There were tears in her eyes. “Please, keep me up to date.”

“Of course,” Caitlin said, and she initiated the hug.

Cisco rubbed his chest, which felt tight and melting all at once, watching his mama and the mother of his child smile at each other. Of course, it probably wouldn’t always be this easy. But it felt like getting off on the right foot. 

“I’m going to walk Caitlin out,” he said to his mama, and they were finally able to slip out the front door. “Sorry about that,” he said. “Shoulda warned you. One does not simply leave a Mexican party.”

“They were very sweet.”

“Yeah, and overwhelming.”

She laughed a little. “I’ll get used to it. But what are chonies?”

He laughed, too. His tia Luisa had said something about this, to a burst of laughter. “Panties.”

“And why am I supposed to wear red ones?”

“Only during the full moon. It’s for good luck. Or to prevent bad luck. Or something. Also I think there’s something about a safety pin on them.” 

She shook her head, smiling. “Well, anyway, everyone was lovely. Especially your mom. She’s really excited.”

“Yeah, she really is.” They’d paused in the hallway. This little corner was secluded enough he could open a quick breach, but he didn’t move to do so yet. “Fair warning, I’m pretty sure she going to want to name the baby after Dante.”

She cocked her head at him. “And you don’t?”

“Is that a question?”

She shrugged. “I know you didn’t always get along. But you were so devastated when he died.”

“Yeah, I know, but losing him didn’t make all those complicated feelings go away. The opposite, actually. Maybe if I had more time -”

She frowned at him.

“I mean,” he said. “I mean to work through it. Six months doesn’t feel like enough. I don’t want to put those feelings on our son.”

Her forehead smoothed. “Okay,” she said. “So his name won’t be Dante.”

He smiled at her. “Right. In fact,” he said, as something occurred to him. “I’ve always been a little weirded out by the idea of naming a baby after someone specific anyway. Alive or dead. Like, let the kid have their own name, you know?"

If his death happened before September, Cisco wanted his son to have his own name, not a retread of his, with all the feelings everyone had about him weighing down those little shoulders.

“There are only so many names in the world,” she said. “Repeats are bound to happen.”

“Repeats, sure,” he said. “But don’t go slapping someone else’s name, and all the baggage attached to it, on an innocent little baby before they’ve had a chance to decide who they’re going to be, all right?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “What if I wanted to name him after Ronnie? Or Stein?”

He narrowed his back at her. “Do you?”

“Maybe.”

“You don’t,” he said. “You would have pushed back a lot harder.” He shook his head. “Seriously, though, I really want this baby to have his own name.”

“Okay,” she said, clearly humoring him. "We'll come up with something completely original."

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

He grinned at her. “Okay. Go home, get some sleep. And tomorrow, get yourself some red chonies.”

* * *

Caitlin stepped clear of the breach and leaned back against her front door. Out of habit, Cisco had breached her just inside her apartment. 

The breach sucked itself closed and left one last dazzle in her eyes as her apartment fell into darkness. The light switch was a few inches away, but she didn’t reach for it just yet.

“That was hard,” she told herself. Her voice echoed in the dark, and she blinked hard against the burn in her eyes. “But next time, it’ll be easier.”

Yes. It would. She would get used to this, to being the mother of his child and nothing more.

Well. Not _nothing_ more. They were still friends. That was good; that was important. It could only help, being friends with the father of your child while you co-parented. Just because she still wished it was more -

She shook her head. Be realistic, Caitlin. Work with what you’ve got. 

And there had been so much good tonight, too. 

She sighed and put her hand on her abdomen, thinking of the delight in everyone’s faces, the hugs, the pregnancy superstitions she’d gotten bombarded with. The red underwear had only been one example.  And her mother, voluntarily offering to take vacation time to come for the birth. Caitlin couldn’t remember the last time her mother had taken time off work by choice. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” she said aloud. “Everyone was so excited. They’re so happy you exist. They can’t wait to meet you.”

Tears burned in her eyes again, but they were happy ones. “I can’t either.”

* * *

Hector caught Cisco’s eye almost as soon as he walked in the door. “Making sure she got on the road okay?”

“Yep,” Cisco said, heading for the food and busying himself with scraping out the remnants of the guac with a tiny triangle of tortilla chip.

“Uh-huh,” Hector said. “Just friends?”

He looked up,and then aimed a glare at Barry, who was opening another bag of potato chips. 

“What?” Barry said. “I just said what Iris told me to say.” He departed with the chips.

“Nobody had to tell me anything,” Hector said, digging around for another beer. “I just had to be standing there looking at the two of you.”

“Just friends,” Cisco said firmly, taking the beer from him. “That’s all we are.”

“Sure,” Hector said, going back to the cooler. “Sure, sure. Because I do that with all my friends. Create human life.”

“Okay, look,” Cisco said, but just then his pop came up.

“Any more beers?”

Hector passed him the one he held and gave Cisco a look before wandering off to find his latest squeeze.

Cisco watched his pop twist off the cap. “Having a good time?”

“Mmhhmmm.” He took a drink and set his hand on Cisco’s shoulder. As always, it was large and heavy, and seemed to expect things of him that he didn’t know how to give. “It’s a big moment,” his pop said. “Your first.”

“Yeah,” he said, his eyes slipping away from his pop's in spite of himself. “Yeah, I know.”

“You need to take care of her. Of both of them.”

“I am.” To the extent that she would let him. 

“Your tia told me something.”

“What’s that?”

“She said that this baby - this girl - it’s just like a sperm donor situation.”

“Wait, what?” How had she heard that? And which auntie was he talking about? Not that it mattered; what one auntie knew, they all did. “No, Papi, not exactly. I mean, that was her idea at the beginning, but I only agreed if I could be a real father to this baby.”

As much as was possible. He opened his own beer and took a gulp.

“Ah,” his pop said. “Well, that’s good.”

Cisco lowered his beer, narrowing his eyes. “What do you mean by that?”

“I said it was good!”

“Yeah, but you said it like you didn’t believe it.”

His father shook his head. “It’s just that there’s more to being a father than making a baby, tu sabes?”

“I know that.”

“You have to look after them. You have to make sure they’re happy and safe and clean and taken care of -”

“I’ve changed a diaper, Pop.”

“A diaper is one thing. It’s over in thirty seconds. This is a lifetime.”

One he wasn’t gong to be there for. His voice came out too loud. “What makes you think I can’t handle it?”

“It’s just that you can be irresponsible, mijo.”

“Irresponsible?” Cisco could practically feel steam shooting out his ears. “I’m irresponsible. Me?”

“You got all these games and toys and posters.” He waved a hand around. “Like a teenager, not a grown man. What are those? Those weird little dolls with the big wobbly heads?”

“Collectibles, and I like them!” This shit was exactly why he never had his parents over.

“You’ve missed more family occasions than you’ve come to in the past five years.” 

“I have to work!”

“Work? What do you do with your life? You play with your machines at that Star Labs. That's work?"

He laughed, and it came out like the crack of a whip. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s what I do. I play with machines all day. Maybe I should be like you and sit in a cubicle for forty years selling insurance and wearing a fucking tie.”

“Language!" his pop snapped. "And at least it was good, steady, respectable work!”

“Oh, it’s steady, Pop! You have no idea how steady it is.”

“You got a retirement fund? Life insurance? Do you even have a will?”

“Yes,” Cisco said without knowing if it was true or not. The first two things, probably. He got paperwork about it all the time.

“Then have you updated them? For this son that you swear you’re ready to be a father to?”

“He’s barely got fingers, Pop,” Cisco said, and now his voice was so loud that heads turned toward them. “I can set those things up. I have time. And would it have killed you to say, ‘hey, son, I’m super happy for you, have you thought of this yet?’ But no, you had to start right in on the lecture about how fucking _immature_ and _irresponsible_ I am -”

“Okay,” said a voice in his ear, and Barry was pulling him away. “Okay, okay, let’s - okay.”

Hector had come up, too. “Tio Tino, Auntie was asking for you. She wants to go.”

Cisco didn’t see his pop’s response, because Barry dragged him into the kitchen. He leaned against the fridge, gripping his elbows. Two of his cousins caught his eye and suddenly remembered they had to be in the other room.

He put his hand over his face and said, “Fuck,” into his palm.

“Are you okay?” Barry asked gently.

Cisco shook his head. “Apparently I’m a man-child who’s going to drop this kid over a balcony or something.”

“No, you’re not,” Barry said staunchly. “And I don’t think your dad thinks so, either.”

“You don’t know my pop. I’ve never been responsible enough for him. Everything I was interested in was always childish nonsense and I needed to man up if I expected to get anywhere in life.”

“Hey,” Hector’s voice said, and Cisco looked up. “Your parents left. You okay, man?”  

“Yeah,” Cisco said. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Should I not have invited them? You’ve been around so much lately, I thought maybe you were getting along now. And Caitlin thought it was okay.”

“Hec, it’s fine, we were getting along. You didn’t know this was going to come up.” Cisco rubbed his face. “Godfuckingdammit. You know what? I don’t think Dante stayed in a steady job for more than a year, and yet I’m the one that’s a silly little kid playing around in life.”

“Mmm,” his cousin said. 

“What?”

“I heard them go at it a few times. Just like - comments sometimes.”

“That was more than comments,” Cisco said.

Barry and Hector looked at each other, equally helpless.

“Whatever,” Cisco said. “Whatever.” He pushed past both of them and walked into the living room. “It’s my birthday!” he yelled over the music. “Somebody get me some fucking tequila.”

* * *

Cisco stayed in a bad mood for three days after his birthday, until Caitlin marched into his lab and told him that if he couldn’t say anything nice, then do them all a favor and don’t say anything at all.

Iris had texted her from the party to warn her that Cisco had gotten in some kind of fight with his dad. Barry wasn’t clear on the details and it didn’t seem to matter, from what Cisco’s cousin Marilu said afterwards. “Just Uncle Santino being hard on Cisco again,” she sighed, eating chips. “Same old song and dance, right up to someone stomping out.”

After Caitlin told him off - Caitlin was sweet, but when she was riled, she could take skin off - Cisco was quiet and broody for another half a day and then seemed to get over himself. Which was good, because Cicada was making their lives hell and Barry was so focused on his latest rampages that there wasn’t time for whatever bug had crawled up Cisco’s butt.

Iris felt guilty thinking it, but it was true. David Hersch remained as elusive as he had all year. As elusive, and as deadly. And with every body that turned up, she could feel her husband blaming himself more and more. No matter how many times she told him that this was the Cicada doing this, and the fact that his chosen victims were all people the Flash had saved still didn’t make this mess Barry’s fault, he refused to let go of that blame.

She sighed, turning a page over. Barry took the weight of the world on his shoulders. It was just one reason she loved him. But it could be really aggravating, too. 

Her phone buzzed, and she glanced over. Cisco was on his way over. He’d had some kind of appointment right after lunch, but told her he would meet her at the station and vibe on some of the things

Ready for a break, she texted him back, _Meet you in the lobby._

The elevator dinged and he strolled out with a go-cup in hand. “Hey, how’s the hunt going?”

“Terribly, of course,” she said. “You went to Jitters?” She caught a whiff of his caramel latte and her stomach growled, startling her. She remembered she’d skipped breakfast, and it was way after lunch. Damn. 

“Uh, yeah, needed the caffeine. Sorry, I should have seen if you wanted something.”

“No, you’re fine, but now I think I really need a Kit Kat.” Now that she was are of it, her hunger seemed to be gnawing on her spine. She asked the desk sarge, “Is the vending machine in the break room working right now?”

“Just barely,” Kristi said. “But you need cash. It’s too old to take cards. Cisco, did you see the new Discovery?”

Cisco’s eyes lit up. “Yessssssssss,” he groaned with the fervor of the diehard fanboy. “So good!”

As they flailed at each other, Iris rooted around for change in her purse and only found fifty cents. "Cisco, you got a dollar?"

"Hmm? Yeah." He dug in his pocket and passed over a crumpled dollar bill, and kept talking to Kristi. 

Iris pulled the bill flat, and an equally crumpled business card fell out of its folds. She picked it up, meaning to hand it back to Cisco, but stopped when she saw the name on the front.

Michael Manderley, Attorney At Law

Wills, Estates, and Probate

And under that in Cisco's jagged scrawl was, _Wednesday, 1:00._

She looked over her shoulder at Cisco, waving his hands as he talked volubly about what the captain had done, and tucked the card in her pocket before going off to buy her Kit Kat.

* * *

The vibes weren’t enormously productive, and they resorted to taking scans of the files with their phones. “Whyyyyyyyy aren’t these digitized,” Cisco mumbled, juggling a box.

“Don’t say that around Singh, you’ll get a three hour lecture on budget shortfall,” Iris said. 

“Ain’t nobody got time for that,” he said, grinning at her as they stashed their phones. He readied a breach, after checking that the door to the file room was tightly shut.

“Hey, can we jump into the kitchen?” Iris asked. “That Kit Kat wasn’t enough.”

“Oh, sure.” He cut off the breach he’d been starting and opened another one into the lower level of Star Labs. She headed for the fridge and he detoured off to his labs, just a few doors away. He felt a little off-kilter after his hour and change in the lawyer’s office to get his help writing a will.

It had gone okay. Easier than he'd expected, probably because he’d downloaded a thing and filled in the blanks around all the legalese. Even though the internet had assured him that he didn’t really need a lawyer for his will to be valid, he’d decided to go to one anyway, just to make sure all the loopholes were closed up tight. But even considering the complication of an unborn child with a woman who wasn't his spouse or common-law partner, he'd been walking out of the office in an hour and a half with a will on file and a weird relief sliding through his veins. 

As much as he’d resisted admitting it to himself, his pop had been right.  (Not about his Funko Pops. Pry those out of his cold, dead - well, whatever.) Being able to dictate that all his life savings should be converted into a education fund for his son, and all future proceeds from his patents should go to Caitlin for child support, was strangely reassuring. He might not be around to look after them, but this was a way he still could.

Looking over his notes, Mike had said, “Now, you’ve notified everyone of your wishes, right?”

“Isn’t that what this is for?”

“No, this is legal documentation of your wishes, and insurance they’ll be carried out. Notifying people of your wishes ahead of time saves on ugly surprises after your death. Particularly when it comes to things like personal assets and guardianship.” Mike adjusted his glasses. “Now this . . . Barry Allen and Iris West-Allen do know you’ve named them as your son’s guardians, right? And are willing to fulfill that charge?”

“That’s only if something happens to Caitlin.” Please god, never let anything happen to Caitlin. 

“Does she know that’s who you’d like to have guardianship?”

“She’d pick them, too. I know she would.” 

Mike had looked at him over his glasses. “And I’d also advise telling your immediate family about your desires regarding your assets.”

“It’ll be okay,” Cisco said.

Mike took off his glasses and folded them, setting them down on the paperwork. “Let me be frank right now. I know that you’re young and healthy and you feel like it’ll never happen. You’re already ahead of the game by dong this, and I commend you for that. But believe me - your beneficiaries, your friends and family, need to know what you want ahead of time. Just in case.”

“Right,” Cisco had said. “Yeah, I guess you have a point there.”

He’d been furious at his pop for close to a week after his birthday, mostly because he’d known down in his heart that he was right. Things like wills and life insurance did need to be all in place. Didn’t that always happen on TV? Stuff about wills and inheritance and no insurance so survivors were all left devastated financially as well as emotionally.

Sitting in his lab, he turned on his computer and opened up a new document. He stared at the blank page, started to type at the top. _To whom it may concern._

What the hell? Was he applying for a job?

He erased that and put _If you’re reading this, then I’m dead._

Woo. Dramatic much?

He pushed himself back from his desk, hard enough he went rolling back and bumped into his lab table. Something clanged, something else clattered. He spun his chair and surveyed his worktable, which was a wreck.

Cisco usually liked working with a wreck - something about having things all spread out in front of him helped him think - but it all seemed as cluttered and jumbled as his own head right now. He jumped to his feet and started gathering bits and bobs into his arms, clearing the table as if that would work on his own thoughts.

He had to take some things into his extra storage closet, which also held his futon for late-night workathons and afternoon naps. He remembered having a furtive, giggling quickie with Caitlin here last year, some night they’d both had to stay late, and regret clawed at his insides.

He leaned against the shelf, holding his stomach. He’d known his fate for six months now. He’d mourned over it, denied himself a relationship with Caitlin, carried the secret like a poisonous gumball in his guts. But now with a freshly signed will at the lawyer’s office, it felt loomed incredibly large.  How was it that the thing that made his impending death feel more real than ever was the paperwork?

“Cisco?” a voice called out.

He jolted, then turned and went back into the lab. “Iris? What’s -” He choked, because she was standing at his desk, squinting at the words on his computer screen. 

She looked up. “What’s this?” She took a bite out of the half-sandwich she held.

“What are you doing in here?”

She looked surprised, even  stopping chewing for a moment before she swallowed her mouthful. “Uh, sorry, I didn’t know I couldn’t walk into my friend’s space.” She set her sandwich down and pulled a card out of her pocket. “You accidentally gave this to me earlier.”

Even form this distance, he could see it was Mike’s card, and he slapped his pockets instinctively. Obviously it wasn’t there because it was in Iris’s hand. He tried to play it off. “Oh, that? Just trash. Some dude I met handed it to me. You know how lawyers are, always trying to drum up business. Why didn't you pitch it?" 

"Really? Just trash? Why does it have an appointment time on it?"

“Well, the appointment’s over,” he said. “So I don’t need it. Obvs.”

“You had an appointment with a lawyer? That does wills?”

He felt very much like this was getting away from him. “What’s the big deal?”

She set the card on his desk, on top of a pile of paper that he’d printed out this morning. “And you have life insurance paperwork out.”

“Our lives are in peril like twice a month, on average. I wanted to check it was up to date.”

She gave him a compassionate look. “And this?” She gestured at the computer screen.

He gulped. “I - uh -”

She rested her hip on the corner of the desk. “Cisco, is there something you need to talk about?”

He swallowed, hard, and felt the swallow go all the way down into his chest even though that was anatomically impossible. His ears were ringing, just a little bit.

“Look,” she said.

“I’m going to die.”


	21. Chapter 21

It felt like he'd knocked a boulder off his chest, like he was taking a full breath for the first time in months.

Iris nodded. “I thought it might be something like that.”

Wait, what?

_“What?”_  
But Iris looked calm and compassionate. She hadn’t even put down her sandwich. "Cisco," she said, licking mustard off her thumb. "I know it's a big thing, having a baby. It brings up all these thoughts about your own life, and how you’ve spent it -I mean, I met my adult daughter last year, and if you think that didn't remind me of my own mortality - "

"No," he said. "This is different."

"My dad said he freaked out big-time before I was born. That was when he was a patrolman, and he wouldn't step foot out of the precinct without his bulletproof vest for six months. Then with Jenna - "

"Iris!" he yelled and she stopped, looking annoyed. "I'm not being paranoid, I'm not freaking out. I’ve seen it. I'm going to die."

Her expression changed. She looked at him, really looked, for a long, long moment. He looked back.

She set her sandwich down, got up, shut the door, and came back to sit down across from him. She looked him in the eye. "Explain."

It took him ten minutes. A good part of that was trying to explain the whole concept of the death vibe itself.

“Okay,” she said, “but how does she know it was this very specific kind of vibe? You were the one who saw it.”

“Look, I know we’re used to figuring out all this stuff from the ground up here. But Cynthia’s got six generations of vibers behind her, and two generations of running it as a business. When she tells me that this is something that’s happened to every viber she’s ever known or heard of, I tend to trust her.”

“I’m not saying I don’t trust her, I’m just saying -”

“I know,” he said. “I went through this too. Maybe this one’s different. Maybe she’s wrong. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I can change it.” He looked at his hands. “But it’s been six months. And it just keeps coming back. No matter what I do.”

“Six months? Why didn’t you tell us, Cisco?”

“Why? So we could talk about it day in and day out? Try a million useless things to thwart it? So I could never escape the thought of my own impending doom? No thanks.”

“We do have a tendency of successfully thwarting fate. I’m living proof.”

“Everything happened the way Barry saw it, you know,” Cisco said. “It’s just some details he missed.”

“Like the actual identity of the person who died,” Iris said. “How do you know something like that isn’t going to happen to you?”

“That was a one-in-a-million chance. Total comic book denouement.”

“We do live in a comic book.”

Cisco shook his head. “Believe me, I’d like to depend on that, but the whole point of one-in-a-million chances is that they only come around one time in a million. And we’ve already had our one. Did you not hear me right now? Nothing’s changed. Everything I’ve tried, I still see Caitlin in that graveyard.”

Iris’s mouth fell open. “Oh my god. Caitlin. She doesn’t know, does she?”

“Don't tell her," he begged. "Please. She's already lost so much."

“I can’t keep this from her! I can’t believe you did!”

“Please,” he said. “She’s so happy right now. She’s having our baby, she’s looking forward to it, please, please don’t ruin it for her.”

“You think losing you won’t ruin it for her?”

“Don’t tell her,” he said again. “And don’t tell Barry. Please.”

“Don’t tell Barry?”

The alarms went off, and both of them jolted to their feet. Caitlin’s voice came over the loudspeaker. “Cisco? Armed robbery on Fourth and Main, and Barry’s out investigating a lead.”

“On it,” Cisco called back, already reaching for the Vibe jacket

“Cisco!” Iris grabbed his arm. “You’re not seriously going out there. After what you just told me?”

“Uh, yeah, I am,” he said, puling his arm free and giving his hair a shake before pulling his goggles on over his eyes. “Just like I have been for the past three months here.”

“But - “

“If it happens today, it’ll happen,” he said, and breached out of his lab.

* * *

Iris swore, then bolted from Cisco’s lab and up the stairs to the cortex. Caitlin was busily pulling up feeds, giving Cisco information in his ear. “Hang on,” she said. “There’s something going wrong with your goggles, I can’t get the feed to settle.”

While she was distracted by that, Iris grabbed the mike. “We’re not done with our conversation,” she warned him in his ear.

“Iris,” he said in a tight voice. 

“What conversation?” Caitlin wanted to know.

“Uh -” Cisco said.

“Just something we were talking about downstairs,” Iris said. “You got the feed?”

“It’s fine now,” Caitlin said. “Okay, watch your left, there’s a blind spot.”

Iris watched her guide Cisco through the scene, warning him of pitfalls and dangers that she could see through the goggles and on her monitors. It was a familiar scene - Iris had done it herself a million times. But never with a sword of Damocles hanging over her friend’s head, the thread ready to snap at any moment. 

Her heart beat in her throat, and she grabbed the arm of her chair every time a bad guy so much as turned toward Cisco. When one of them actually fired on him, she lunged for her phone. “I’m calling Barry!”

“Iris!” Cisco snapped. “I’ve got it!” And indeed, he’d already pulled open a breach and sent the bullet zipping harmlessly into the void. Next moment, he’d boomed both the robbers, knocking them asses over teakettle, and just like that, it was over. Sirens wailed distantly over his comm.

Barry’s voice bleated out of her phone, held loosely in her lap. “Babe? What is it?”

She lifted it to her ear. “Nothing. False alarm.”

“Need me to come back?”

“No, keep working on your thing. I’ll fill you in later.” She ended the call.

Caitlin turned off the mike and turned to Iris, her eyes narrowed. “Are you okay?”

“Of course,” Iris said, too brightly. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You tell me,” Caitlin said. “There was no reason to call Barry in. Cisco already had them.”

Iris avoided her eyes. “Sorry. I had a moment there where - um - where ti didn’t seem like it.”

“What’s going on?”

Iris turned down the volume on Cisco’s feed. It was just him talking to the cops anyway. “I just worry about them. Both of them. You know?”

“Oh, yes,” Caitlin said. “I know. I do too.” For a moment the strain of years showed around her eyes, but then she smiled brightly. “But we’ve got a good track record. We’ve always come back, and most of the time in one piece.”

Iris nodded. “Yeah. That’s true.”

Caitlin peered at her. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

For a minute Iris thought about telling her everything. Finally giving her the reasons for all Cisco’s puzzling and hurtful behavior over the past months. Sharing the truth about her future - because no matter what Cisco said, his future - or lack of one - was wrapped up with hers now, and she deserved to know.

But this was something Cisco needed to tell her himself. 

“Fine,” Iris said. “Really. I’m fine.”

* * *

Cisco glared at her when he breached back into the cortex, but when Caitlin just smiled at him and said, “Nice work, Vibe,” his glare softened.

When Iris said, “Sorry about that. I guess I freaked out for a moment,” it dissolved entirely.

“It’s - whatever,” he said. “Happens to all of us.” When Caitlin turned away for a moment, he mouthed, _Did you say anything?_ and relaxed when Iris mouthed back _No._

She went by him in the guise of going to the kitchen for a cup of coffee, and muttered, “but you should,” in his ear, and kept walking, even when he let out a hiss between his teeth. 

Cisco hid in his lab for the rest of the day, which was luckily mayhem-free. Iris tried to squirrel herself away in the office just off the cortex that she used to research and write her blog, but she couldn’t focus and kept wandering the halls, her mind churning. Both Caitlin and Barry remarked on how out of it she seemed. She made up a story about a tough source, smiled and shook her head when Barry offered to shake them down, and avoided the hallway with Cisco’s lab in it.

She slept terribly that night. She kept waking up from dreams of Savitar, Infantino Street, Killer Frost before she’d become an ally. She saw her own body crumpling to the street, and even knowing it was really HR in there didn’t make it better.

The third time, she accepted that she wasn’t going to sleep tonight. She got out of bed as gently as possible, but Barry still rolled over and mumbled, “Wha’s wron’?”

“Nothing, babe,” she said, smoothing her hand over his cheek. “Just can’t sleep tonight. I’m going to watch TV for awhile.”

“Wan’ me t’ -”

“Go back to sleep,” she crooned and his eyes drifted closed.

She didn’t watch TV, though - she took her phone and scrolled through old texts, instead. From Cisco, trying to pinpoint if he’d ever said or done anything strange in the last six months that should have warned her. From Caitlin, torturing herself with her friend’s confusion and unhappiness, and her own knowledge that something was weird, something was off. She scowled at her former self, even knowing that she couldn’t possibly have figured out that Cisco was pulling away because he was going to die. 

Her eyelids grew heavy as she stared at an exchange between her and Caitlin - _I know, I shouldn't keep them, but they're so pretty_. She let her eyes slide closed, wondering how Caitlin was going to handle this development.

A hand shook her shoulder, and she jackknifed off the couch with a shriek, her phone going flying. In a rush of wind, Barry snatched it before the screen could meet the corner of the coffee table. 

She stared at him, one fist pressed to her thudding heart. Early-morning sun tinted the ceiling and the knife-edged shadows of dawn patterned the loft. 

He peered down at her. “You fell asleep out here?”

“Uh-huh.” Sweat coated her skin in clammy patches. “Guess I did.”

He squatted to study her face. “Are you okay?”

“I had a nightmare.”

His face softened. He had nightmares, too - people he couldn’t save, people he’d had to kill. Making a wrong choice and watching all of Central City fall to fire and flood. “Oh, Iris. About what?”

About what could have happened on Infantino Street, if HR hadn’t stepped in at the last second. She shook her head jerkily. “It doesn’t matter. Can - can you just hold me for awhile?”

“Yes,” he said, sliding onto the couch and wrapping his long arms around her, snuggling close. “As long as you want.”

She tucked herself into the familiar hollows and angles of his beloved body, listening to the thud of his heartbeat (just a hair faster than a normal man’s; she’d always teased him that she made his heart beat fast) and thought of Cisco, carrying this alone for months, when he didn’t have to.

* * *

Iris found Cisco in the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “Look,” she said without preamble. “I was up all night thinking about what you told me yesterday, and -”

He glanced up. “What I told you? What did I tell you?”

She gaped at him. “Wha- about - the, the death vibe, and -”

He burst out laughing. “Oh my god. That? I can’t believe you didn’t figure it out. Wow, I must have been really convincing, wasn’t I?”

Her eyes narrowed. 

He shook his head, still grinning. “It was a _joke_. I was _pranking_ you.”

“A prank,” she said.

“Yeah. Oh my god. A vibe warning that I wasn’t going to survive the year? Seriously? You actually fell for it. That’s amazing.”

“You decided to prank me, a woman who spent five months thinking she was going to die at the end of them, with your own impending death?”

“Pretty good, right?”

She crossed her arms. “Either you’re way more of a dick than I ever took you for, or you’re lying your face off right now to convince me not to tell Barry or Caitlin.”

He slurped coffee again. “Yeah, I guess I am kind of a dick.”

She glared.

He met her eyes for about three-tenths of a second, then they flicked away. His smirk wobbled at the edges, then melted like a Popsicle in the sun. “Look,” he said, low and fast, “this is my life. My -” he swallowed hard. “My death. Isn’t it my right who knows or not?”

“I get that,” she said. “I really do. But you’re acting like they won’t feel it if they don’t know it’s coming.”

“I don’t think that,” he said softly. “I just don’t want to dwell on this. You didn’t say anything, did you?”

“Not yet,” she said ominously. “But seriously, I think you need to. You can’t carry this on your own. I don’t know how you’ve done it for six months already.”

“Mostly by not thinking about it. And you need to keep this secret. Isn’t that your job? Keeping secrets?”

“My job? I’m a journalist, I find out secrets. And I literally tell everyone. The cat is very much out of the bag, Cisco.”

“Yeah, well, the cat’s gonna stay here.” He jabbed a finger at the floor. “Right here, between us. This kitty is staying where we put it.”

“Have you ever _met_ a cat?” Iris said, rhetorically, since Cisco had turned on his heel and was already on his way out the door.

* * *

Although she’d warned Cisco, Iris genuinely thought she might be able to hold onto this secret for a few more days, long enough to talk Cisco into breaking the news himself. But that afternoon she found Caitlin in her lab, standing in front of the big window, angling herself to the side and frowning thoughtfully at her transparent reflection. She put one hand on the small of her back and the other lightly on her lower abdomen, then tilted her head and frowned harder.

“Caitlin?”

She dropped her hands quickly, straightening up. “Hi! Um, what’s up?”

“What were you doing?” Iris asked, coming in the room.

“I - “ She went pink and looked down at her midsection. “I was trying to figure out if I had a bump yet, or if it was just the burritos we had for lunch.”

“Oh.”

Caitlin put her hand on her abdomen again. “What do you think? Do you see a bump?”

“Maybe,” Iris said. “Yeah. Sure.”

She dropped her hands again and shook her head, laughing at herself. “I know, it’s dumb. We’ll see one soon, and eventually I’ll be really sick of it. I’m just so impatient sometimes.” She smoothed her hand over her abdomen again. “I just want to meet him. See his face, look in his eyes. Five months isn’t that long, is it?”

“No,” Iris said slowly

“Right. It just feels like forever to wait.” She shook her head again. “And I’m sure Cisco’s got it worse. But it’s just five months. Twenty-four weeks. And then we really will be parents.” She smiled dreamily. “I can’t wait to see Cisco with him. He’s just going to be such an amazing dad. I mean, the science fairs alone, can you imagine?”

All of a sudden, it was too much. Iris put her hands to her face. “Oh my god. I can’t do this.”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing,” Iris said. “Nothing, nothing.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said, hearing the squeak in her voice. “Um, I forgot something, I’ve gotta go - “ She turned on her heel and almost ran through the cortex.

“Iris!” Caitlin called behind her. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

* * *

Barry walked into the cortex in time to see Iris run out of it. “Hey!” he called out. “What’s going on? What is it?” He turned to stare at Caitlin, who stood in the doorway between her lab and the cortex, looking as confused as he felt. “What happened?”

“I don’t know, we were just talking and she said she had to go.” Caitlin looked after her, brows scrunched up. “She said she was okay, but I don’t know if I believe her.”

“She’s been upset about something since last night. Did you say something to her?”

“No!” Caitlin said.

“Well, you must have, because Iris isn’t like that. She doesn’t just go running off for no reason.”

“Nobody goes running off for no reason. I just don’t happen to know what hers was.”

“Well, what were you talking about?

“The baby,” Caitlin said. “And waiting, and being a parent - Oh!” She turned to him with wide eyes. “She hasn’t said anything to me, but are you guys trying?”

“What? No, god, no way. We don’t want kids yet. Who would have a kid at a time like this?”

“Excuse me?” Caitlin said coldly.

“You know what I mean. Come on,” Barry said, starting for the hall. “Let’s go find out where she went and what’s going on.”

* * *

Iris slammed into Cisco’s lab. “You need,” she announced, “to tell them.”

Cisco looked up, blinking, and for a split second he couldn’t figure out what she was talking about. Then he remembered. “I don’t need to do anything. You said you would keep your mouth shut.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t. I was just talking to Caitlin and you know what she was talking about?”

“. . . No?”

“She was talking about seeing you as a parent. How much she was looking forward to that.”

His eyes burned suddenly. He tried not to think of the future, generally, but sometimes he couldn't help it. He wanted to carry his baby in one of those baby backpacks with his fat little feet kicking. He wanted to buy him a little hot chocolate at Jitters. He wanted to teach him how to fly a kite and read him bedtime stories and walk the floor with him when he was teething.

When Cisco forgot not to think about it, he wanted all that so much he could barely breathe.

Iris was still ranting. “You know, it’s bad enough you dumped her out of some crazy notion that you were saving her from hurt -”

“It will!” He hissed. “And keep your voice down. It will. I was there for Ronnie, and Jay, and all the shit she’s gone through in the past six years. You seriously think I want to put her through that again?”

Iris threw up her hands. “Ohhhh my god. Do you seriously think, when she’s weeping over your dead body, that she’s going to wipe away her tears and say to herself, ‘Well, this is bad, but it would be so much worse if I’d had even a day of love and happiness with Cisco before he died?’”

Put that way, it did sound kind of asinine.

But that was because she didn’t understand, she - 

Cisco opened his mouth to refute it, but the voice that rang through his lab wasn’t his.

“Before he _what?”_

They both whipped around to see Barry in the doorway, his mouth hanging open. "What are you talking about?"

No, oh, no, no, no, please let Barry have come alone, please  _please._

But right behind him, standing in the hallway with huge eyes and a bone-white face, was - 

"Caitlin," Cisco whispered.


End file.
